You're My Stress and You're My Masseuse
by slantedknitting
Summary: Modern AU. Arthur's back at college for a new semester, but he's having a hard time falling back into his old routine after his father died over the summer. In an attempt to distract himself (and pad his resume), he starts writing articles for one of the school newspapers. He's assigned to write about art (and one art student in particular), even though he knows nothing about it.


Arthur flipped another page in his book, tried to read a few sentences, and gave up by planting his face in the grass. He breathed into the dirt, mindless of it getting on his face or hair or expensive clothes. The ground felt a lot more real than the philosophy text he was trying to study and he needed a break.

"You all right?"

Arthur grunted and made a big show of turning onto his back. He stared up at the sky and watched a few clouds floating slowly overhead, trying to pick out their shapes. They were just formless blobs. He tapped out a rhythm on his stomach, making up the parts of the song he couldn't remember and trying to sort out the lyrics in his head.

"What are you reading?"

Arthur let his book get pulled away. He folded his arms over his face to block the sun and took a deep breath, trying to remember why he was at college. He needed to focus.

"Heidegger getting you down?"

"Yeah, man," Arthur said dully. "Does time itself reveal itself as the horizon of being?"

The book was slammed down into Arthur's chest. He sat up, pushing it back at his study partner.

"Speak English," Gwaine demanded, his eyes sparking.

"I am speaking English," Arthur grumbled. He shook the dirt out of his hair and checked his watch. It was too early for dinner but he couldn't concentrate anymore. He needed something else to do.

"Is this what gay flirting looks like?" Leon asked mildly from where he was perched on the low brick wall above where Arthur and Gwaine were sprawled out.

"No," Arthur and Gwaine answered in unison and then scowled at each other.

"If you're interested," Gwaine leered up at Leon, "I can show you what it's supposed to look like." He turned back to Arthur. "What do you say, princess?"

"Can't," Arthur said, trying for a tactful smile. Gwaine's creased brow confirmed that he had only managed a sickened grimace. "I'm going to go talk with Gaius."

"Trying to audit a journalism class?" Leon teased.

"Not likely," Arthur mumbled as he shoved his books and pens into a backpack. He stood and brushed off his jeans. "I'll see you at dinner?" he asked Leon.

Leon nodded and Arthur walked away from his friends without saying goodbye. He could feel their eyes on his back and knew they were probably worried about him, but he didn't want to talk about it with them. He didn't want to talk about it with anyone, but Gaius was the only one he felt that he _could_ talk to about it.

Gaius had known Arthur's father before he'd died a few months ago, over the summer. He was an old family friend, someone who had known Arthur's mother, too, before she'd passed away shortly after Arthur's birth. He had known Arthur since then as well and Arthur didn't know anyone else he could turn to. Arthur's only remaining family was an uncle he rarely heard from and a half-sister who was getting her degree in Japan. She rarely came home and when she did, she didn't talk to Arthur about their father.

Arthur moved swiftly across campus, heading away from the dorms and toward the academic buildings. He wasn't even sure if Gaius held office hours on Thursday afternoons, but he had to try.

When he reached the building that housed a large number of faculty offices, Arthur took a moment to look at the dedication plaque. It was Pen Hall, an old stone mansion named after his great-grandfather, who had once been president of the college. Almost everyone in Arthur's family had graduated from the school. Morgana had purposely made herself the exception, in part, Arthur believed, just to get a rise out of their father.

Arthur pulled open the heavy door and walked up to the second floor. Gaius' office was on the left. It was one of the larger offices on campus and he had filled it with bookshelves and couches, paintings and framed magazines or newspapers, plants and statues, desks and chairs. It was disorganized and cozy and Arthur sort of loved it. His father had always claimed that interior decoration was Gaius' only fault, but Arthur knew better. Gaius was eccentric, but more than that, he knew how to engage with college students. He knew that they preferred casual messes and the appearance of a busy mind. Gaius was the mad scientist of the humanities department and students loved him for it.

Arthur knocked on the door and waited, hoping. If the door was closed then it probably meant Gaius wasn't holding office hours, but there was always a chance that he was there anyway, grading assignments or preparing a lesson.

"Come in."

Arthur opened the door and peeked inside. Gaius was sitting casually in an armchair, looking thoroughly unsurprised.

"Arthur," he said mildly. "Come in."

Arthur closed the door behind him and paused, suddenly unsure.

"What brings you here today?" Gaius prompted, gesturing for Arthur to sit on the sofa opposite the armchair.

Arthur dropped his backpack to the floor and sat down stiffly.

"I just... wanted to say hello."

"I haven't seen you since the funeral," Gaius said casually, though in a quiet voice. "How are you holding up?"

Arthur shrugged and fingered the fringe on the cushion next to him. "I'm all right."

"Just all right?"

Arthur sighed deeply and forced himself to look up and meet Gaius' steady gaze. He had known Gaius his entire life and Gaius was one of the few people who could see through all of Arthur's bullshit. Arthur took in Gaius' familiar, wrinkled face, the concerned tilt of his head, and his ever-patient expression.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind," Arthur said in a rush. "Everything here is the same. Nothing's changed and I... I don't know how to handle it. _I_ don't feel the same. _I've_ changed and I don't know how to reconcile that with this place. It's only the first week of the semester and maybe I just need to give it more time, but I feel so... suffocated."

Gaius nodded and waited to see if Arthur was going to offer up anything else before he started asking questions. "Suffocated?"

"Yeah." Arthur looked down at his shoes and tried to gather his thoughts. "Everything's the same... everyone is still doing the same things and keeping the same routine and I just _can't_. I can't keep going like nothing's happened, but I don't know how to fix..." he waved his hands around vaguely, gesturing to the college and his life and the world. "I feel like I need to change something about myself and what I'm doing. I can't keep doing the same thing I was doing last year or the year before that. I'm not the same person and I don't have the same life and I need something to reflect that."

Gaius nodded again, as if Arthur was making sense. It eased the tension in Arthur's chest slightly and he let himself sink into the couch. Even if Gaius was only pretending to understand how he felt, it was a relief to finally give voice to his worry.

"It feels like there's a lot of monotony," Arthur added. "It's... it's suffocating. Yeah." He finished with a nod and looked back down at his shoes before forcing himself to meet Gaius' gaze again.

"That's all perfectly understandable," Gaius said with a soft smile. "You've had a major upheaval in your life and you're not going to go back to feeling 'normal' overnight."

"I don't want to go back," Arthur said quickly. "I want to move forward. I don't want to settle back into the same thing and have the only change be that my father isn't there. I want something new."

Gaius' eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you speaking about changing your majors?"

Arthur bit his lip and took in the magazines and newspapers hanging around Gaius' office. Gaius was head of the journalism program and he had been one of the most notable journalists of his time. The walls of his office spoke of a long, healthy career filled with triumphs and fueled by motivation and an unwavering dedication to the field.

"No," he said quietly. "I haven't lost interest in what I'm studying. I still feel like I'm on the right track. I guess I want to change something, you know... something more personal. I feel sort of restless."

"Do you want a new hobby?" Gaius asked, excited.

"I don't know what I want," Arthur admitted.

"Then let's start with this and see how it goes. It'll give you something to do with your free time and it'll be a new experience. You'll meet new people, discover new passions... it'll help. Well, it should help. I hope it helps. I do want you to be happy, Arthur. I know that's what Uther would have wanted for you, too."

Arthur nodded but didn't trust himself to speak.

"Have you thought about joining an ensemble?"

The tightness in Arthur's throat loosened as he glared at Gaius, who smiled innocently.

"I don't play for other people," he said simply.

Gaius frowned and fell silent for a moment. Arthur looked back down at his shoes, wondering if this had been a mistake. This wasn't the first time Arthur had been thrown by Gaius' ideas.

"What if... what if you write an article or two for my paper?"

Arthur looked back up, intrigued. "You'd trust me to write for the _Albion Observer_?"

Gaius nodded. "You're a very gifted, intelligent student. You wouldn't have gotten this far in either of your majors if you couldn't write well."

Arthur considered the offer. The _Observer_ was Albion College's oldest and most comprehensive student newspaper. Gaius had been overseeing its publications for decades and he monitored the quality of the articles closely. He was involved in most writer and editor staffing decisions, even when it came to guest columnists.

"You know I've never done anything... _creative_ before, right?"

Gaius rolled his eyes. "Arthur, I'm not asking you to write a novel. Morris is abroad this semester, so you can take over his campus affairs column."

"Campus affairs?" Arthur asked blankly.

"Special events around campus, you know." When Arthur didn't respond, Gaius elaborated. "Art galleries, concerts, guest speakers, championship games, that sort of thing."

"Doesn't sound too hard," Arthur said slowly. "So I would just... go to the events and, what, summarize them?"

"You'll write about what made them special and worth attending, if they were. If they weren't, you can make suggestions for the next event. You just have to be critical... but you already are, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem for you."

Arthur found himself smiling. "So, how do I find out about these events? Will you tell me which ones to go to?"

"I'm much more out of touch with what's going on than you are, I'm sure. Just keep your eyes and ears open."

The truth was that Arthur had spent most of the first week of the semester hiding in his room or the library. This was the first day his friends had managed to persuade him to study with them on the quad. He had no idea what was going on around the campus.

"If you're looking for a place to start, I would suggest going to Ealdor."

"The art building?" Arthur asked, alarmed. He didn't know the first thing about art and wasn't sure he should tackle something so foreign for his first article.

"Yes," Gaius said, oblivious to Arthur's panic. "There's a retrospective of Kiley Gharrah's early work in the front gallery."

"And... Kiley Gharrah was... um, who, exactly?"

Gaius frowned slightly. "He's the head of the photography program."

"Oh. Right."

"He knew Warhol," Gaius said impressively.

Arthur gave Gaius a tight-lipped smile and lifted his backpack into his lap.

"Well, I'll try to get there this weekend, then," he said, thinking that he would probably email Gaius on Monday with some excuse about why he couldn't write for the _Observer_. It was a nice idea but it wasn't something Arthur had much interest or experience in. He knew how to write academic papers but he was sure that newspaper articles were completely different. He had no idea how to approach that type of writing, especially if his first assignment was an art show. If it had been a soccer game or a lecture by a local representative, he would have felt more comfortable and more competent. Arthur had never understood much about art, especially contemporary art, which Albion's art department was renowned for. He could appreciate the beauty of Mona Lisa and the statue of David, but when it came to stacks of empty soda cans and canvases covered in scribbles or only painted over with one color, Arthur was completely lost.

"It's being taken down on Saturday," Gaius said, following Arthur to the door. "Go tomorrow and send me your thoughts next week."

Arthur nodded and escaped into the hallway without saying goodbye. He raced down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, wanting air and plenty of space between him and Gaius' concerned, all-knowing gaze.

He walked the short distance to the library and spent the time until dinner checking his email and the news. He ran a few searches on art journalism but didn't find anything that looked like it would help him and gave up after few short minutes, trying not to feel too guilty.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Dinner with Leon was quiet - mostly because Leon was reading a book while he ate - until Gwaine found their table in the back of the dining hall and invited himself to sit down.

"Did you seduce him?" Gwaine asked around a mouthful of pizza.

Arthur raised an eyebrow but said nothing, as his mouth was full of salad and he had better manners.

"Gaius," Gwaine said once he'd swallowed. "Did you seduce him?"

Arthur only barely managed not to choke. "That is disgusting in so many different ways," he said, shoving Gwaine away. "He's known me since I was in the womb!"

"And I'm sure you must have a very deep emotional connection by now."

Arthur threw a cherry tomato at Gwaine, who caught it in his mouth without effort.

"You're sick."

Gwaine shrugged. "So, if you weren't seducing him, why'd you go talk to him?"

"Didn't I just say that I've known him my entire life?"

"Yeah, and I've known plenty of old men for my entire life, but I don't seek them out when I'm surrounded by people my own age."

Arthur suppressed the urge to punch Gwaine in the face and took a bite of his spaghetti instead. Leon reached across the table without looking up from his book to steal a piece of onion out of Arthur's salad.

"So you just... played catch up with him?" Gwaine asked, sounding bored and doubtful and completely infuriating.

"He asked me to write for the _Observer_," Arthur admitted, too annoyed to come up with a lie. "Happy?"

"Yeah," Gwaine said, grinning. "That's awesome! What are you going to write? You should interview me."

Arthur snorted. "About what?"

"All of my deep philosophical thoughts," Gwaine said, his face earnest. "And my sexcapades."

"No," Arthur said flatly. "He's already given me an assignment, anyway."

"Are you going to do an exposé on the head chef? Because I've heard rumors that he keeps some pretty weird shit in the trunk of his car."

"You are out of your goddamn mind," Arthur said mildly. "And no. I have to go look at the gallery in Ealdor. One of the photography professors is having a retrospective or something."

Gwaine's face immediately lit up. "The art department has some extremely sexy guys."

"Do you ever think about anything else?"

"No," Gwaine said unapologetically. "I'm 20 and in college, what the fuck else am I supposed to think about?"

"Oh, I don't know," Arthur mocked. "Classes, homework, getting a job in the future, to name a few."

Gwaine shook his head pityingly. "You're missing out on being young."

"I'm - Leon!" Arthur begged for his friend's help. "You think about things other than sex, right?"

Leon looked up and shook his head innocently. "No."

Arthur glared. "You're studying right now! That's not sex!"

Leon turned his book around so Arthur could see it. "I'm reading about prostitution in the 1800s."

"What? Jesus, I am surrounded by children," Arthur complained and returned his attention to his lukewarm pasta. "Horny, horny children."

"I dated an art major once," Gwaine said, ignoring Arthur's insult. "He was nuts in bed."

"Nuts in a good way?" Leon asked.

"In the _best_ way," Gwaine confirmed.

"Wait. You mean to say that you've actually _dated_ someone?" Arthur interrupted.

To Arthur's surprise, Gwaine blushed a little. "Well, no. We fucked a few times, but... I wasn't his type, apparently."

Leon nodded in sympathy and went back to his reading.

"I didn't think you had it in you to even want to date someone," Arthur teased, not sure how to handle Gwaine's genuine display of emotion.

"Let me put it this way," Gwaine said, grinning lewdly. "He was gorgeous, had a huge dick, and absolutely loved taking it up the-"

Arthur shoved another cherry tomato in Gwaine's mouth to shut him up. "And here I thought you may have had actual feelings for another human being."

"I had feelings for you," Gwaine pointed out as he chewed.

"Yeah." Arthur rolled his eyes. "You had the feeling that you wanted to suck my dick."

"Can I not be here for this part of the conversation?" Leon asked, looking up. "I don't need that much detail."

Arthur felt his whole face going red and he stacked his dishes up quickly, not caring that he had barely eaten half of his dinner.

"Anyway, I was serious," Gwaine continued, completely unaffected. "All the hot, skinny, hipster, artsy boys hang out in Ealdor."

"I dated an artsy girl once," Arthur reminded him.

"Gwen was a dancer," Gwaine pointed out, "not an artist."

"Whatever. I don't - I'm not looking to hook up with some random art student, okay? I'm just going to go and look at some bullshit art and then write some bullshit article. There are no extra steps involved."

"I think the princess is about to get her period," Gwaine whispered conspiratorially to Leon.

"You are such a douche." Arthur stood with his dishes and made sure he elbowed Gwaine's head on the way out of the dining hall.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

When Arthur returned to his dorm room that evening, the first thing he did was open up his laptop to write an email to Gaius.

**-x-**

_To: Gaius Hart _

_From: Arthur Pendragon _

_Subject: Observer_

_Gaius,_

_I really appreciate your help, but I don't think I can write for the_ Observer _this semester. I've thought about it some more and I've decided that I need to concentrate on my classes, instead. I don't want to get any more distracted than I already am. I'm sorry. I hope you can find someone else to cover the column._

_Arthur_

**-x-**

_To: Arthur Pendragaon _

_From: Gaius Hart _

_Subject: RE: Observer_

_Arthur,_

_I shouldn't have to remind you that extracurricular activities look extremely good on a resume. This will help you get into grad school or into a better job after you graduate. Writing a column like this shows that you are interested and involved in the world around you, which is important for someone studying Political Science. You don't want to make it look like you only concentrated on your majors and spent no time or effort engaging with the campus community. I don't know what you have planned for yourself after Albion, but something like this will only help you succeed in the future._

_Please reconsider._

_Gaius_

**-x-**

_To: Gaius Hart _

_From: Arthur Pendragon _

_Subject: RE: RE: Observer_

_Gaius,_

_I don't know anything about art._

_Arthur_

**-x-**

_To: Arthur Pendragaon _

_From: Gaius Hart _

_Subject: RE: RE: RE: Observer_

_Arthur,_

_You are a musician. Music is art. You can't fool me._

_Gaius_

**-x-**

Arthur groaned and closed his laptop after the final response from Gaius, knowing he wouldn't be able to get out of the assignment.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Arthur waited until after lunch on Friday to visit Ealdor Studios. He had only been to the building once before, on a strange date with Gwen. She had wanted to see her brother's photography exhibit and Arthur had been nothing short of baffled the entire time. Elyan's photos had been blurry close-ups of body parts that Arthur had had a hard time identifying. They had meant nothing to him.

Ealdor was hidden in the woods, away from most of the other academic buildings on Albion's campus. It didn't have its own parking lot and could only be accessed on foot or bicycle. It blended perfectly into its woodland setting, due to the dull earth tones of the cement slabs that made up its exterior walls. It was larger than it appeared at first glance; it housed classrooms, faculty offices, private studios for seniors, and gallery spaces. It was the home of painters, illustrators, sculptors, photographers, and printmakers, which Arthur knew because Elyan had given Arthur and Gwen a full tour of the facility when they'd gone to see his show.

For that exhibit, four seniors had taken up the four walls of the front gallery. Almost every inch of available wall space had been covered in photographs or artist notes. Arthur was somewhat relieved to see that Kiley Gharrah's retrospective was significantly less busy. There were only about twenty photographs spread out around the entire gallery.

Arthur was also relieved that there were fewer visitors to the space. There were some other students camped out in the corners of the room, drawing or reading and acting as if the gallery were some sort of study lounge. Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that they were watching him as he walked around to look at the photographs.

He knew that he didn't look like he belonged in Ealdor. He was wearing designer jeans that weren't skintight and a red t-shirt that wasn't grossly deconstructed. The art students in the corners were sporting tight, ratty-looking clothes with holes and clashing patterns and patches. They were covered in piercings and tattoos and looking at Arthur as though he had two heads.

Arthur did his best to ignore them. Ealdor was open to all students. He had every right to be there looking at the exhibit.

Unfortunately, the exhibit was baffling. Kiley Gharrah's photographs were much clearer than Elyan's had been, but as far as Arthur was concerned, that didn't make them much better. It looked as though the photographs had all been taken on the same day, or at least in the same place. The setting seemed to be some sort of warehouse; it looked bleak and under-furnished. Arthur didn't know who any of the people in the photographs were, nor did he even know if he was supposed to. Gaius had said that Kiley Gharrah had known Warhol, and Arthur was pretty sure he would recognize that iconic hair if nothing else, but Warhol didn't seem to be in any of the pictures. They were just random subjects in random moments.

One photograph was of two women sipping coffee and looking at a magazine. Another photograph was of two skinny men on a couch, doing what Arthur hoped was wrestling and not dry-humping. The next photograph was of a teenage girl standing pointlessly against a blank wall, looking away from the camera, and drinking a soda and smoking a cigarette. There was a photograph of a girl in her underwear and too much make-up speaking into an old rotary phone. There were photographs of nervous and bored looking people staring straight into the camera. There were photographs of people at parties, caught off guard by the camera. All the clothing and hairstyles screamed of the 1960s.

Arthur couldn't figure it out. They were just pictures of Kiley Gharrah's friends from decades ago. They weren't beautiful or meaningful or even in color. They were just there, hanging on the wall and showing some era that Arthur knew nothing about and hadn't even been alive during.

He went around the exhibit twice before he took out his phone to jot down some notes to help him write the article for Gaius. He opened up a blank note and stared at his phone's screen for a while, trying to form any thoughts on the photographs.

_Pointless_, he typed out. _Facebook for the 1960s. Meaningless. Random moments_.

He thought about what Gaius had said about music being an art form. Music was used to tell stories or create moods. Arthur glanced up at the photograph of the men on the couch again. He didn't know what the story was. There was no context. It didn't make him feel anything.

The front door to the gallery slammed shut and Arthur looked up at the noise. It was a student, another art student by the looks of him. He had on black skinny jeans and a plaid shirt that didn't quite match his plaid scarf. His ears were gauged, though not by much, and he had a long barbell running diagonally across each ear. One of his eyebrows was pierced too, and Arthur found himself wondering if there were any hidden piercings on his lanky body.

The thought startled him and he looked back down at his phone before anyone could catch him staring. He wasn't usually attracted to alternative types and he wanted to keep looking at the guy to figure out what was so different this time, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself by gawking.

_"I dated an art major once."_ Gwaine's words echoed in Arthur's head. _"He was nuts in bed."_

Arthur couldn't begin to imagine what Gwaine considered to be "nuts" when it came to sex. He was the only guy Arthur had ever slept with, but he was aggressive and kinky and knew exactly what he liked. It had been a good experience for Arthur's first time with another guy, and a couple of times after that, but eventually Arthur had given up on trying to keep up with Gwaine's energy. He could handle the crazy sex, but he didn't always want to go get trashed and find a party right afterwards, or right before, or even during. Sometimes Arthur just wanted to relax and Gwaine was anything but still.

Loud laughter broke Arthur out of his thoughts and he looked up again, this time to see the newcomer dropping a backpack into the lap of another art student. He didn't sit down with his friends, though. Instead, he idled through the gallery, his gaze sweeping over the photographs.

Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye. The guy was skinny but not as skinny as some of the other guys sitting in the corner. He looked like he might actually enjoy some physical activity, if his muscular thighs were anything to go by. His clothes were tight but not so tight that Arthur could see his junk though his jeans, which was something that Arthur hated. He looked healthy instead of worryingly thin and he would have passed for normal if it weren't for the mismatched plaid and facial piercings.

He stopped in front of the photograph of the half-naked girl on the phone and smiled fondly at it.

Arthur blinked, wondering what this guy saw in the picture that he didn't.

Before the thought was fully formed, Arthur found himself moving across the room to stand next to the art student.

"Hi," he said, surprised by how loud his voice was. He lowered it immediately. "Um, do you study photography?"

The guy shook his head, his eyebrows raised. "Why?"

Arthur considered telling a lie but the guy was staring at him with such intense blue eyes that Arthur couldn't even come up with one.

"I'm writing an article on the exhibit," he explained, gesturing around the gallery.

The guy's whole face lit up and Arthur couldn't stop staring at his high, sharp cheekbones.

"Yeah? Gharrah's a genius. I mean, look at this moment. She's probably like, on the phone with her mom or something, but she's in her underwear and it looks like she just spent two days having drug-fueled sex. The emotion on her face is insane."

Arthur glanced at the photograph again. The girl still looked the same to him. She seemed tired but that was all Arthur could pull from the picture. He couldn't imagine her on the phone with her mother or anyone else. She didn't have a voice. She was just a face, one of the many nameless faces on display in the exhibit.

"And the composition," the guy continued, unaware of Arthur's confusion. "All the blank space around her, like she's the only one in the whole room."

"Can I interview you?" Arthur asked, scrambling to take off his backpack and find a notebook.

"Oh!" The guy smiled, looking pleasantly surprised. "Okay."

"Great." Arthur flipped open a notebook and took the cap off his pen with his teeth. "I'm Arthur, by the way."

"Merlin."

They shook hands and Merlin led the way to the start of the exhibit. He went on for a while about who the women in the photograph were and what they were doing and how their posture suggested much more than what was shown in the picture.

Arthur scribbled down Merlin's words as well as he could, thinking that he had struck gold. It wouldn't take much effort to edit Merlin's monologue into a decent article to send to Gaius. At least, it wouldn't take much if Arthur could actually pay attention to what Merlin was saying. He kept getting distracted by Merlin's lips as they formed words; they looked full and soft and perfect for things that were completely inappropriate for the art building.

When Merlin moved onto the next photograph, Arthur looked down at his notebook and flipped the page before Merlin could see his half-scribbled thoughts.

"This is great," Arthur said, resolving to start paying attention. "I don't know anything about this shit. It just looks like 1960s Facebook to me."

"Really?" Merlin asked after a long pause.

Arthur shrugged. "Yeah. I mean... as far as I can tell, these are just pictures of random people, you know? Random moments... it doesn't really mean anything. It's just like Facebook. They're just pictures of Kiley Gharrah's friends and he's put them on display here. As far as I know, he was high when he took these."

Arthur could practically see the question mark written on Merlin's face.

"Isn't that what artists do?" Arthur asked. "Get high and make something and hope that someone else likes it somehow?"

Merlin's expression hardened and Arthur realized he had missed the mark.

"No," Merlin said quietly. "That is not what artists do."

"I didn't mean it like that," Arthur said quickly.

"No?" Merlin stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What's this article for?"

"The _Observer_."

Merlin nodded and turned his attention to the closest photograph. Arthur watched him for a moment and it was clear that he was battling with himself.

"Well," Merlin said eventually, a tiny smile on his face, "you'll have to find someone else to interview. Although, I don't know why you're trying to write about this retrospective if you're so apathetic about art."

Merlin walked back over to his friends before Arthur could say anything.

He left Ealdor without even putting his notebook away. He didn't want to see or hear Merlin's friends laughing at him, as he was sure they would once Merlin had told them what he'd said. He didn't like to be embarrassed, especially when he didn't feel that he'd done anything wrong. It wasn't his fault that he didn't care about art. Nothing about modern or contemporary art had ever meant anything to him. It was all for show and Arthur couldn't find value in that.

Arthur put on his headphones and stalked back to his dorm room, listening to some ridiculously cheerful Japanese pop songs Morgana had sent him. They were loud and obnoxious, but they were a good distraction.

By the time he reached his room, Arthur was in a better mood. He was sure that he could put together a decent article based on what he'd written of Merlin's ramblings, and hopefully Gaius would send him somewhere more interesting next time. Arthur hated to admit it, but Gaius was right; writing this column would look good on his resume, and it also gave him something new to focus on. Even though being in Ealdor had made him uncomfortable, he felt that he was finally breathing easier. The column would get him involved in new things and introduce him to new people and keep him occupied in his free time. It was the perfect solution to how suffocated he had felt with his old, dull routine.

Arthur tossed his backpack onto his bed and sat down at his desk with the notebook he had used in Ealdor. He opened his laptop to put on his paper-writing playlist and flipped through the notebook until he found what he needed.

The pages were wrinkled from Arthur gripping it so tightly during his escape. His handwriting was a complete mess and he could tell that most of the sentences were unfinished. The parts that looked the most complete were almost entirely illegible.

Running a hand over his face, Arthur tried to remember anything that Merlin had said. The only things in Arthur's memory were the frantic scrambling of his own hand over the notebook and Merlin's stupid lips.

Merlin had been unfairly attractive as he had gone on and on about Kiley Gharrah's photographs. He was almost pretty, especially in profile, which was how Arthur had seen him during most of the "interview." His eyelashes had seemed to go on forever and they only served to make his blue eyes stand out even more than they already did against his dark brown hair. His ears were huge, even without all the jewelry, but somehow they were adorable, even endearing, instead of awkward and dorky.

Arthur had never been so struck by another man's beauty before. He had spent most of his life thinking only of girls and he was still getting used to letting himself look at boys in public and admit to his thoughts about them.

He really hadn't taken in anything Merlin had said about the exhibit. He had just written down what Merlin had said and tried not to stare too hard when Merlin wasn't talking. There had been something very different about Merlin, something so simple about his face that belied his enthusiasm and intelligence.

Maybe it was just his cheekbones. Arthur had never seen cheekbones so defined before.

They looked strange on a face that was supposed to be masculine.

Arthur stared blankly at his mess of notes and let his mind wander. He wondered what Merlin was like, if he was as masculine as all the plaid suggested or if he was more effeminate like his eyelashes and his cheekbones and his soft lips and the gentle slope of his nose. Merlin had spoken with his hands, gesturing and flipping his wrists and waggling his distractingly long, thin fingers. Arthur tended to think of that trait, of talking with one's hands, as _gay_. He did it sometimes, Gwaine did it all the time, and Merlin's hands had been a flurry of graceful motion.

Arthur was sure that it was a stupid stereotype, but it was still in his head. Leon was as straight and as stoic as Arthur's father had been; he told long, winding, amazingly engaging stories that never failed to make Arthur cry with laughter, but he did so without his hands. Leon used his face and the tone of his voice to convey emotions. Merlin had used his hands, waving them more frantically when he was really impressed with something in a photograph, floating them gently through the air when he was trying to show how Kiley Gharrah had represented something peaceful or sad, shoving them into his pockets when he had sensed Arthur's utter lack of interest in the art.

Leon would never give so much of himself away like that.

The dichotomy settled in Arthur's mind and he let it grow roots as he tried piece together Merlin's puzzle from their five-minute interaction. Leon was a history major who wanted to be a history teacher; he had a practical future planned out for himself. Merlin probably majored in some absurd and obscure art that would leave him homeless, like cross-stitch or embroidery or shoestring mobiles or origami. Arthur couldn't even imagine something ridiculous enough that would fit his spiraling impression of Merlin. Anyone who could pull so much out of some old black and white photographs had to be a little out of it, and Arthur could picture Merlin strung out on all sorts of drugs, killing off brain cells one by one.

Arthur knew the idea wasn't very well-founded but he couldn't help himself. His imagination was slipping out of his control. He wanted to figure Merlin out. Something about Merlin had gotten under Arthur's skin in less than five minutes and now he couldn't think of anything else. He had never even seen Merlin on campus before, or if he had, he hadn't paid Merlin any attention. He had probably just brushed Merlin off as another ridiculous hipster, because that's what Merlin looked like. Merlin didn't speak the way Arthur expected him to, though. He was articulate and sure of himself in a way that suggested a lot of experience instead of a lot of arrogance. He was passionate and intelligent and Arthur had been completely pulled in by his excitement and his hands.

Merlin probably sucked everyone into his world that way. He probably spent all of his time talking absolute nonsense about art with all the other art students. His friends were probably just as weird and gay and creative in ways that would never make sense to Arthur. Merlin probably had a million gay friends in the art department. He probably slept with them all.

That thought jarred Arthur out of his daydream. Something in him shifted uncomfortably and he suddenly hoped that Merlin's friends were all straight or ugly or both.

Arthur set his notebook down on the desk and opened his email.

**-x-**

_To: Gaius Hart _

_From: Arthur Pendragon _

_Subject: Retrospective_

_Gaius,_

_I don't think I'm going to make it to the exhibit before it gets taken down. I have a lot more reading than I anticipated and I have to run some errands tomorrow morning. Let me know if there is anything else I can report on instead._

_Arthur_

**-x-**

_To: Arthur Pendragaon _

_From: Gaius Hart _

_Subject: RE: Retrospective_

_Arthur,_

_Ealdor and the art department are an important part of campus life. There is a student exhibit opening on Sunday afternoon in one of the rear galleries. Please make time to see it by Monday or Tuesday._

_Gaius_

**-x-**

Gaius' disappointment was unmistakable but Arthur brushed it off, pushed aside the unidentifiable feelings he had at the prospect of returning to Ealdor, and flopped onto his bed to start on his homework.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Arthur spent most of his weekend finding new bands to listen to and attempting to read Heidegger and compile notes for the paper he had due in a few weeks. He didn't get nearly as much done as he wanted to because he kept distracting himself with thoughts of Merlin.

Every time he stepped out of his dorm room, he kept his eyes peeled for boots and brown hair and blue eyes and cheekbones and facial piercings. He found a dismaying amount of other students who had most or all of those features, but none of them were Merlin. None of them were even half as attractive as Merlin. None of them drove Arthur to such new heights of sexual frustration that he actually called Gwaine on Saturday night.

It hadn't taken more than five minutes for Arthur to come down Gwaine's throat and Gwaine hadn't missed the opportunity to make fun of him for it, even as he was sucking Gwaine's cock. That was the infuriating thing about Gwaine - he never shut up, even when his dick was stuffed in someone's mouth. He also barely shut up even when he had a dick stuffed in his own mouth, but Arthur had learned how to block out the garbled gibberish Gwaine tried to say in the middle of a blowjob.

He had never planned to sleep with Gwaine again, not after he had put an end to their strange affair at the end of the previous semester. After two days of thinking only of Merlin's full lips and wide smile, Arthur hadn't known what else to do. It felt like all the porn and masturbation in the world wasn't enough to satisfy his lust.

By Monday, Arthur was pretty sure that he could handle going back to Ealdor. His thoughts of Merlin had calmed slightly since he'd been with Gwaine and he was pretty sure that he could keep himself composed if he somehow did run into Merlin.

He was more worried about what sort of art was going to be at the exhibit. If it was anything like the other student art he had seen on display around campus before, he was going to have an even harder time than he'd had with Kiley Gharrah's photographs. His only hope was finding a less attractive art student to interview.

When Arthur stepped into Ealdor on Monday afternoon, his headphones firmly in place, he found the front gallery empty of people. There were a few new paintings on display on one of the walls, all of them large and bizarre portraits in violent colors. They were almost grotesque. Arthur blinked at them, wondering what had possibly inspired the artist to be so gross in his or her depiction of the probably very nice and normal subjects.

Deciding not to dwell, Arthur moved through the gallery and into the back hallway. There were large galleries on either end, but Arthur wasn't sure which one he was supposed to report on.

Arthur glanced to the left. There were several open classrooms and he could see students and professors milling around, cleaning up after a class. The gallery at the far end was dark.

The right side of the hallway was shorter and had fewer doors. There were a few utility closets and bathrooms. Arthur noticed Kiley Gharrah's office door and wondered if he should try to get an interview and make that into an article. Surely the artist himself would have more insight about his work than some random art student. Arthur would have preferred that to writing about student art; even if Arthur couldn't understand why or how, at least Kiley Gharrah was a professional. He had more credentials than any of the art students. Arthur didn't want to encourage them by writing about their exhibit. No one was trying to publish his papers on philosophy or political science and he didn't think that undergraduate art students should be putting on shows.

Arthur approached the gallery with a sense of dread. He wanted to keep his headphones on, for comfort, but he could hear loud music coming from the gallery. When he slipped them off, he also heard what sounded disturbingly like a saw. All he could hope was that he wasn't going to walk into some sort of psychedelic performance art.

The gallery was surprisingly large, with high ceilings, no windows, and several distinct areas of display. Half of the room was dedicated to an exhibit of photographs and small figurines. The other half seemed to be a work space instead of a gallery. There were half-finished paintings propped up on easels, ambiguous lumps of clay left out on tarps, and, in the back, an enormous slab of granite.

Standing on top of the slab and carving it out with a huge circular saw, was Merlin. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with fraying armholes from where the sleeves had been ripped off. He had his scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face to protect himself from breathing in the debris. He was covered in dirt and dust and sweat; the muscles in his arms were bulging as he wielded the saw with a practiced ease.

He looked completely out of place and Arthur couldn't stop staring. Every other artist in the room was creating something small and disposable and temporary. Merlin was shaping a huge rock; he was making something that would last longer than himself or Arthur or anyone in the building. Maybe it would even last longer than the building itself.

Merlin paused in his carving to wipe the sweat off his face with his bicep and Arthur turned away. He hid himself in the corner of the photography exhibit and tried to remember what he was even doing in Ealdor.

He was supposed to be writing an article on the display of student art.

Arthur took a deep breath and swept his gaze over the photographs. They were mostly of empty street corners. There were a lot of close-ups of signs and stoplights. It was an extremely literal representation of one of the surrounding towns and Arthur couldn't fathom coming up with more than 50 words to describe the entire collection.

He approached the nearest student, pen and paper at the ready.

"Excuse me." He smiled warmly when the guy turned to look at him. "I'm writing about the exhibit for the _Observer_... can I ask for your thoughts on it?"

The guy blinked slowly and Arthur wondered if he was high.

"You should write about these," he said finally, gesturing at the small figurines set up on a nearby table. "They're really cool."

Arthur fought not to roll his eyes. The figurines were nothing more than candles. They were small wax sculptures of animals and food and household objects, each carved with a set of breasts.

"I'm not sure that'd be appropriate," Arthur said as gently as he could.

"For the _Observer_? They have a sex advice column, don't they?"

Arthur shrugged. He didn't read the newspaper that often or that thoroughly, though he would never admit so to Gaius.

"Anyway, I think these are great. Even the more phallic objects have tits. It's interesting... it makes you think."

Arthur stared at a small banana with a pair of slightly lopsided breasts. It didn't make him think of anything in particular, except that the artist was probably too horny for his own good.

"They're... yeah. I don't know, I think it might be better if I write about the photographs."

"I think you should write about these," the guy said sternly, glaring at Arthur. "The _Observer_ needs more articles about subversive subjects. I mean, okay, these aren't the most mind-blowing things I've ever seen, but at least they're trying, you know? Sex and gender have to be addressed and maybe this isn't the best way to do it, but it does say something about the saturation of porn in our lives. I mean, there are like 100 tits on this table and we're just standing here like it's normal. We're so desensitized to stuff like this and I hope that's what Freya was trying to get at, because it needs to be said."

Arthur gaped down at the figurines. He was sure that Freya had to be a girl's name. The idea of a girl sitting down to make so many wax breasts alarmed him.

"I think Freya's in her studio, actually," the guy said. "I can go get her if you want an interview."

Arthur tried to protest but the other guy walked away, anyway. He considered escaping but he knew he had to come up with something to write for Gaius, and an interview with a crazy artist was better than nothing.

Arthur spent a few minutes inspecting the little wax sculptures, committing them to memory and jotting down a few notes so that he could describe them in his article. When he looked up again, the guy he had been speaking to was walking over to him, a small girl following closely behind.

"This is Freya," he said. "I don't actually think I got your name."

"Arthur," Arthur said, shaking Freya's hand.

"I'm Will," the guy said, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. "Have a good interview."

There was something less than kind in his voice but he was gone before Arthur could decipher it.

"Well," Arthur said, tapping his pen against his notebook. "I'm writing something for the _Observer_ on this, um... display. Do you want to tell me anything about your art?"

Freya gave him a hard look before picking up a figurine of a water bottle with breasts. "What do _you_ think of it?"

Arthur shifted his weight between his feet, trying to come up with anything. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't really know much about... art."

"You don't have to," Freya said dismissively. "It's supposed to speak for itself."

"It's a water bottle with boobs," Arthur said blankly. "What am I supposed to think?"

"You're not _supposed_ to think anything. You're just supposed to have your own reaction."

"I don't have a reaction," Arthur said, feeling cornered. "It's a water bottle with boobs. It doesn't make me feel anything other than vaguely uncomfortable because I don't understand what the fuck you were trying to get me to think about when you made it."

"Do you like girls?"

"What?"

"Are you straight?"

Arthur could feel his whole face heating up. "I - I don't..."

"It's not brain surgery," Freya teased. "It's just a little wax figure. It's just there to make you think about, you know, your assumptions about sex and gender and the representation of female bodies in the media and in porn."

Arthur sighed and took the water bottle figure out of Freya's hands. "Is this what the world looks like to you?" he asked. "Is this what you want the world to look like? Are you saying that this is what the world looks like to people who watch too much porn? I don't understand what this is supposed to make me think."

Freya grinned and took the figurine back before setting it onto the table. "It's that simple. It's just meant to make you question things."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "I still don't get it."

"You're back."

Arthur looked over to see Merlin approaching them. He was covered in dirt and sweat and the words 'disgustingly sexy' floated through Arthur's mind.

Merlin wrapped an arm around Freya's waist as he stood next to her and Arthur tried not to stare. Apparently Merlin wasn't as gay as Arthur had assumed.

"You know each other?" Freya asked, looking between them.

"He tried to interview me last week," Merlin said, his eyes narrowed as he took in Arthur's notebook. "Now he's doing the same to you?"

"We're just talking about my pieces," Freya explained. "Do you want to come over to Merlin's later? I have class in five minutes but you can interview me tonight if you want."

"I'm supposed to write about the gallery," Arthur said vaguely. He knew he should probably just find another student to interview about the photographs, since they were much more literal and much less complicated, but part of him really wanted to see Merlin's dorm room. He wanted to piece together more of the puzzle that was the strange sculptor.

"We can talk about it tonight," Freya insisted, pulling away from Merlin. She waved and disappeared back into the hallway.

Arthur watched her leave and turned cautiously back to Merlin, who was watching him with an unnerving scrutiny.

"Would you mind if I... talked to Freya in your room tonight?"

Merlin shrugged, looking down at Freya's figurines. "I don't mind. I live off campus, though. Do you have a car?"

Arthur nodded and handed the notebook over to Merlin, who scribbled down his address before giving it back.

"Thanks," Arthur said, looking down at Merlin's cramped handwriting.

"You can come over at 7 or 7:30, I guess. I have a friend coming over to model for me and Freya was going to watch and do some studying for her art history class."

"You're sure I won't be interrupting?"

Merlin shrugged again. "It's fine. I'll see you tonight." He grabbed the notebook back and wrote down his phone number. "Call me if you get lost on the way over."

Arthur took the notebook back and stared at Merlin's ass while he walked away.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Arthur ate an early dinner and went back to his room to prepare himself for an evening at Merlin's. He put on his favorite jazz album and went through his closet, trying on several outfits before he realized what he was doing and settling on the jeans and striped sweater he had been wearing all day. He didn't want to look like he was trying too hard to impress Merlin. He _wasn't_ trying to impress Merlin. He was just trying to interview Freya and maybe understand her and Merlin's world a little bit more.

When he was satisfied with how he looked, Arthur grabbed his backpack and headed out to his car. He listened to the radio on the 10-minute drive to Merlin's, shuffling through all the channels and trying to find music that calmed him down. The only tolerable thing he found to listen to was a hip hop station that was playing a few songs he recognized. He turned up the bass and lost himself in the rhythmic thumping until he pulled up to the address Merlin had written down.

It was a run-down looking warehouse on the edge of a neighboring town. Arthur parked in front and leaned over the passenger seat to look up at it. It seemed like an excellent setting for a horror film and like the last place he wanted to interview Freya. He could imagine Merlin camping out illegally in the abandoned building, huddling for warmth in an old sleeping bag.

"This is so not worth it," he mumbled to himself as he grabbed his bag and got out of the car. He double-checked that his car was properly locked before stepping up to the front door of the warehouse. There were six doorbells, each with a name scribbled next to it in permanent marker.

Arthur hit the button next to _Merlin Emrys_ and waited.

It took almost two minutes, but eventually Merlin opened the door and invited Arthur inside.

"You found it okay?" Merlin asked as he led Arthur up a set of stairs.

"Yeah. Do other students live here?" Arthur asked, trying not to touch the railing. The paint was peeling off the walls and the staircase smelled heavily of marijuana.

"Yeah, it's all art students. Well, actually, I think there's a cellist living on the first floor this semester, but I haven't met him yet."

Arthur didn't say anything as they climbed up to the third floor and went into the right-side apartment.

"Well, this is home," Merlin said, gesturing around the large room.

There was a kitchen on the left and Merlin's bed was set up in the far right corner. Everything in between seemed to be Merlin's studio. There were tarps covering most of the floor and several stools set up in front of half-formed lumps of various materials. There were mostly finished models from clay, vaguely formed figures cut from stone, a few completed metal statues, and one table littered with smaller wood carvings. As far as Arthur could tell, each sculpture was of a person or several people. There was nothing abstract or surreal, just beautiful and surprisingly exact representations of human forms in movement.

Arthur tore his eyes from Merlin's work space to take in the rest of the apartment. The corner that served as Merlin's bedroom had a small desk with Merlin's laptop and several textbooks stacked on it. There were a few shelves mounted above Merlin's bed and Arthur could see dozens of small figurines on them. He wondered if they were Merlin's work but didn't dare step closer to look.

There were a few large windows on the far wall that looked out over a park and there was an old piano set up in front of them. Arthur opened his mouth to ask about it but was cut off by Freya.

"You made it!" She jumped up from a futon that served as a small barrier between Merlin's bedroom and the rest of the studio apartment.

Arthur smiled and let her drag him over to the futon. They settled comfortably on it and Arthur pretended not to notice the way that Merlin was lingering pointlessly in the kitchen, clearly trying not to pay them any attention.

Arthur pulled out his notebook and was about to start in on what he hoped would be a short and successful interview when the doorbell rang again. Merlin slipped out the door without explanation.

"That's probably Lance," Freya said. "He's Merlin's favorite model."

"Why?" Arthur asked before he could stop himself.

Freya shrugged. "They're really good friends... plus Lance has an _excellent_ body and doesn't mind sitting around half-naked for long periods of time."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, not entirely sure how he felt about witnessing that. "Are you sure we won't be disturbing them?"

Freya waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine. Merlin works to music so he won't be able to hear us anyway."

Arthur nodded and glanced around the apartment again. "Did Merlin make those?" he asked, pointing to the wood carvings above Merlin's bed.

"No, those-"

The door opened again and Merlin came in with another guy that Arthur thought he recognized as another student. He had long hair that somehow looked perfectly styled and lazily unkempt at the same time. He had soft brown eyes, the exact right amount of stubble, and, Arthur could tell from the way his arm muscles were visible under his cardigan, the excellent body that Freya had promised.

Arthur gulped and tried to turn his attention back to Freya, but Freya was standing up to greet the newcomer. She hugged him tightly and dragged him over to the couch. Arthur stood awkwardly.

"This is Arthur, he's interviewing me about the tits. Arthur, this is Lance."

Lance smiled broadly and held out his hand. Arthur shook it, trying not to stare too hard. Lance was nothing short of gorgeous and Arthur was sure his concentration was going to disappear completely if Lance took off his clothes.

"Tell her she needs to do another set with penises," Lance teased before Merlin dragged him away from the couch.

Arthur sat back down and flipped through his notebook, trying to remember the questions he had planned out in his head.

Loud music suddenly filled the apartment and Arthur frowned slightly as he looked down at his notes. It was one of the songs he had been listening to on the way over and for some reason he couldn't reconcile his image of Merlin with such an angry rap song.

He glanced up and almost dropped his notebook onto the floor. Merlin and Lance were wrapped closely around each other, grinding to the fast-paced music. Merlin's hands were gripping Lance's ass and Lance's hands were holding tight to Merlin's sides as they swayed together.

Arthur stared blankly at the pair, wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into. Merlin had been all over Freya that afternoon but now he was more than all over Lance. Maybe they were in some sort of threesome arrangement. Maybe they had asked him over to invite him into a foursome.

Arthur pushed that thought aside, blushing.

"Ready?" Freya asked innocently.

Arthur looked over, surprised. He had almost forgotten why he was there. "Um. Yes." He fumbled with his notebook for a few seconds, trying to find a blank page. "Are they together?" he asked without looking up.

"Who, Lance and Merlin?" Freya laughed. "No, Lance has a girlfriend."

Arthur glanced up at the two guys again. They were still dancing, their crotches very definitely aligned and pressed close together.

"Girlfriend?" Arthur asked skeptically.

"He's straight," Freya explained. "That just gets them both in the mood."

Arthur shook his head, pushing away the other questions he had. The sooner he did this interview, the sooner he could leave this strange place and pretend like he had never been here. Merlin was even more of a mystery now than he had been before.

The song changed and Arthur could see Merlin and Lance separating out of the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath and looked up at Freya.

"How did you come up with the idea for your pieces in the student show?"

Freya gave a long, rambling answer that somehow involved Merlin giving her a bunch of candles during an acid trip and Arthur did his best to write down as much as he could without losing legibility.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur had five pages full of messy notes and a decent idea for how the article was going to shape up.

"I think that was my last question," Arthur said, smiling at Freya. "Thank you so much for letting me interview you. This will make writing the article infinitely easier."

"Oh, it's no problem. Hang on, let me get you a beer."

Arthur tried to protest but the loud music drowned out his "no, thanks" and Freya came back a minute later with two open bottles. He took a sip and stared down at his notes, unwilling to look over and see what Merlin and Lance were doing. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. The Merlin in his head had gone from eccentric to downright insane over the last hour and Arthur wasn't sure if he was interested anymore. Merlin was still gorgeous, even in comparison to the model-esque Lance, but Arthur was starting to think that he didn't need to know much more than that. Maybe Merlin was better left to his own world and his own friends who clearly understood him.

"You're allowed to watch," Freya said after a minute. "It's not private or anything."

Arthur wasn't sure he agreed, but he looked up anyway. Merlin and Lance were both sitting perfectly still, in strange contrast to the loud hip hop still blaring out of Merlin's speakers.

Lance, now shirtless, was perched on the edge of his stool, his arms flung gracefully out to one side and his face turned the opposite way. His back was arched and if it weren't for the fact that his feet were planted firmly on the ground, Arthur would have sworn he was mid-leap. The upper half of his body was screaming that he was an elegant, powerful dancer; the lower half of his body looked like it was sitting in class.

Merlin was working on the top half of a three-foot tall sculpture. The bottom half was finished already and the legs of the figure were bent slightly, as if they were poised to take off or maybe as if they had just landed back on the ground.

Merlin was hunched over his art, working slowly with the chisel and hammer, his eyes darting between the sculpture and the model. Arthur could see concentration all over Merlin's face, but he could also see passion and contentment and something that would have looked like madness if it weren't for the discerning downward curve of Merlin's lips. It was obvious that Merlin was trying to create something great, but it was even more obvious that he knew exactly what greatness was and what it took to get there. He was invested in what he was doing but he wasn't lost in it; he was one step removed so that he could watch his own progress and critique it and cover up his mistakes and push for the greatness he clearly believed he could achieve.

Arthur didn't realize that any time had passed until the album ended abruptly and Lance put his arms down with a groan and a wince.

Arthur blinked down at his still full beer and wondered what time it was. He hadn't planned on staying so long. He was supposed to do other homework and study with Gwaine.

He felt lightheaded and dazed with the shock of returning to reality.

Merlin straightened up and stretched out his neck and arms. He and Lance were smiling lazily at each other and somehow Arthur knew how they felt. He understood what it was like to get pulled into the moment of creation and lose all sense of pain, even though he had only been a spectator.

"I should go," he mumbled, mostly to himself. He put his notebook in his backpack and looked up to see Merlin staring blankly at him.

"You're still here," Merlin said, his tone unreadable.

"Yeah, sorry." Arthur stood and shouldered his bag. "I was just about to leave."

"With the beer?" Merlin teased.

Arthur looked down to see his fingers still wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

"How many did Freya give you? You can stay a while if you need. I can make coffee."

"I only had a few sips," Arthur explained, setting the bottle down on the futon's wooden armrest.

"You can stay if you want," Merlin offered again. "Gwen's on her way over and we were going to smoke and get lost in the cat section of YouTube."

"Gwen?" Arthur asked, trying to think if he'd ever met another Gwen at Albion.

"My girlfriend," Lance explained.

"Gwen... Thomas?"

Lance nodded, his eyes narrowed. "Yeah, do you - wait, are you _that_ Arthur?"

"I guess," Arthur muttered. "Anyway, thanks for the offer but I think I'm going to go. I'm supposed to study with a friend, so... thanks for letting me stay. Thanks for the interview." He nodded at Freya who smiled from her spot on the futon. "Good meeting you," he added to Lance before yanking open the door and rushing down the stairs.

He was at his car, fumbling with his keys, when someone called his name. He looked up at the familiar voice and saw his ex-girlfriend running over to him.

"Arthur!" she cried out, flinging her arms around his neck as she almost tackled him to the ground in a hug. "I've been looking for you," she said into his hair. "I heard about your dad. I'm so sorry. How are you doing?" She pulled back and gave him a hard, searching look, daring him to lie to her.

"I'm okay," Arthur said, holding onto Gwen's back. "I'm... yeah. I'm okay."

Gwen frowned and pulled him closer for another tight hug. Arthur clenched his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself not to fall apart. Gwen wasn't his girlfriend anymore - she was Lance's girlfriend - and he didn't want to lose control in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked after long moment. She stepped back completely and tucked her hair behind her ears.

Arthur tried to think of a simple explanation. "I was... um." Gwen raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently. "Gaius is having me write for the _Observer_, so I was interviewing a girl about some of her art that was on display in Ealdor."

"A girl who lives here?" Gwen asked.

"I don't think so. We were in her friend's apartment..." Arthur trailed off, wondering why he was trying to hide where he had just been. He knew that as soon as she got upstairs, Lance was going to tell her that he had just been there. "I think I met your boyfriend, actually."

Gwen's eyes lit up. "You met Lance?"

"For a few seconds, yeah. He was modeling for the guy whose apartment it was... Merlin."

"You know Merlin?" Gwen asked excitedly, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

"I met him a few days ago. I was just interviewing Freya..."

Gwen beamed at him. "Well, why are you leaving? Come back up with me."

"I can't," Arthur said firmly, unlocking his car. "I'm supposed to study with Gwaine."

Gwen's smile grew even wider and Arthur tried not to blush. "Are you still with him?"

"No," Arthur said quickly. "I never was. We were just... messing around."

Gwen studied him and Arthur shifted under the scrutiny, tossing his bag in the passenger seat and fiddling with his keys until he felt her eyes finally leave his face.

"How's Leon?"

"He's good." Arthur looked back up and smiled. "He's always the same."

A silence passed between them and Arthur bit his lip, wondering what Gwen was thinking.

"We should get lunch sometime," she suggested brightly. "Or coffee, at least."

Arthur found himself nodding. "Yeah. We should."

Gwen smiled and gave him another quick hug. "I'm really glad I ran into you. Call me if you ever need anything, okay?"

Arthur nodded again and watched as she went up to the warehouse and rang Merlin's doorbell. It occurred to him that someone was going to come down to let her in and see him still hovering by his car, so he got in and drove off as quickly as he could.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Arthur didn't sleep that night. All he wanted to do was write the article so that he could send it to Gaius and be done with it, but he couldn't concentrate. He kept distracting himself with thoughts of Merlin - Merlin dancing with Lance, Merlin working on his sculpture, Merlin inviting Arthur to stay in his apartment, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

The evening was playing on a loop inside his head and he didn't know how to stop it. He tried everything to draw his thoughts away from Merlin. He put on a movie, he listened to his favorite album, he listened to music that he hated, he played a computer game, he took a scalding hot shower, and he drank enough coffee to ensure that he wouldn't fall asleep until well past dawn.

Nothing he did helped and by the time he had to get to his first class on Tuesday morning, Arthur was feeling completely on edge. He had written the article about Freya and her work, but it was littered with references to Merlin and what Merlin had said about Kiley Gharrah's work and how Merlin acted during his own creative process. Arthur thought the whole thing was pathetic and he hated the thought of sending it to Gaius, but he hated the thought of spending another night working on it even more, so he sent it off as soon as he'd made sure there weren't any typos.

Arthur napped in the library between meals and classes and returned to his room on Tuesday evening ready to forego all of his homework and sleep until Merlin was well and truly out of his head.

When he finally curled up in his bed and closed his eyes, Arthur was frustrated to find that he still couldn't think of anything but Merlin. He tried to fight it and think about all the homework he wasn't doing or about what assignment Gaius would have for him next or about what Morgana was doing in Japan or about how good Gwaine looked without a shirt, but nothing worked. He even tried to think about his father but Merlin's face kept popping up instead.

Arthur grumbled and moaned and tossed and turned for over an hour before he gave in. He put on a soft, quiet playlist he had made to help him sleep as a last resort, but it did nothing to quell the insistent twitching of his half-hard cock.

He jerked off as quickly as he could manage, trying not to think too specifically of Merlin. Images of Merlin on top of the granite block flitted across his mind's eye, followed by images of Merlin grinding against Lance. Arthur tried to brush past them and focus on his own hand or on memories of Gwaine or on his usual fantasies, but it was pointless.

He came panting and sighing, imagining a sweaty Merlin grinding against him to filthy music in the wide open studio apartment.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

_To: Arthur Pendragaon _

_From: Gaius Hart _

_Subject: RE: Article_

_Arthur,_

_This is very good for your first draft. I am going to send it to one of the student editors and they will be in touch with you about corrections. I know you think you know nothing about art, but that seems to serve you well. Your curiosity and your intuition about other people really comes across when you write about the artist's process. I think you should keep going with this theme. There is an art student I would like for you to interview named Merlin Emrys. He's a sculptor and he does some amazing work with the idea of classical sculptures, movement, and contemporary art. Let me know if you have any trouble getting in contact with him. I've run the idea by Kiley Gharrah and he said that Merlin is one of the most promising talents the Albion art department has seen in years. I would love to read your interpretations of his process._

_Gaius_

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Arthur spent Wednesday and Thursday as normally as he could manage. He studied with Leon and their other friends, mostly Gwaine and Percival. Arthur teased Gwaine about his obvious crush on Percival, teased Leon about the freshman girl he kept "running into" at the library and the post office and the dining hall, and teased Percival about how he was practically a one-man rugby team. He focused on other people and, for once, it seemed to work. He didn't feel as down and defeated as he had at the very beginning of the semester. He was starting to feel somewhat normal again, at least with his friends. He would make fun of them and they would make fun of him right back. Instead of bothering him and making him doubt himself and their friendships, it just made him laugh.

He felt more relaxed, almost like he could breathe again.

As long as he kept his mind off Gaius and _Merlin_ and anything to do with art, he was fine.

Unfortunately, Gaius caught Arthur on his way out of his last class on Thursday evening.

"Did you get my email?" Gaius asked after he had pulled Arthur into the classroom he had just finished teaching in. "Have you been able to find Merlin?"

"I haven't had time," Arthur lied. "I've been really busy for the last few days."

Gaius nodded and watched Arthur for a moment. Arthur fought not to break eye contact.

"Are you going to make time this weekend?" Gaius asked.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted. "I'm not sure I... I need to. I mean, I was only helping with the _Observer_ for something new to do, right? I've been feeling a lot better this week, a lot more... um, normal. So, I don't think I need it anymore."

Gaius' eyebrow shot up and Arthur tried not to squirm.

"If it's working then you shouldn't stop," Gaius said logically. "If you feel a little better after writing one article, think how much better you'll feel after writing two articles."

"Right," Arthur muttered. He wasn't going to get out of this without disappointing Gaius and he _hated_ disappointing people.

"Do you want me to speak with Kiley Gharrah again? We could set up a meeting time and place for you and Merlin."

Arthur shook his head, defeated. "No, it's fine. I know who he is."

Gaius raised his eyebrow again. "Do you? Good, then. I look forward to getting some words from you next week."

Arthur nodded, forced himself to smile, and shook Gaius' hand before going to the dining hall to meet Leon.

Leon was sitting at a corner table by himself, his usual companions of books and notebooks spread out around him.

"Do you ever stop studying?" Arthur asked, slinging his backpack into an empty seat and slumping into the one across from Leon.

Leon looked up slowly, his expression skeptical and pointed.

"I stop studying sometimes," Arthur pointed out.

Leon snorted. "You do _now_, sure. You never used to, though."

Arthur shrugged, the truth of Leon's words settling uncomfortably in his stomach. "Well... maybe I realized that life is short and all that."

Leon's expression grew concerned. "Really?"

"No," Arthur admitted. "I'm just..." He sighed and looked down at his fingernails, picking out the dirt underneath them. He hated talking about his _feelings_, even to people he was close to and trusted. He worried about sounding stupid because he was never quite sure how to express exactly what he was thinking. His father had never spoken about his own feelings, at least not to his children. Uther had never mentioned Arthur's mother, Ygraine, not even when Arthur had begged him to. Eventually Arthur had learned to stop begging, but he had also learned that refusing to talk about things wasn't necessarily the best choice. Uther had been a hard, closed-off man and Arthur had rarely seen him shaken or vulnerable. He had been strong and Arthur had always wanted to be strong too, to please him. But Arthur had never wanted to close himself off from the world or become emotionless or so completely unwilling to communicate.

Arthur had always tried his best to communicate, even when it made him feel stupid and uncomfortable.

"I'm just trying to adjust to my new life," he said, still looking down at his hands. "And I guess that means... not going back to the ways of my old life."

A long moment passed and Arthur went over his words again, wondering if they had made any sense.

"Is that why you went to see Gaius?" Leon asked. "Is that why you're suddenly writing for the _Observer_?"

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. I needed something new. Something... something to signify that, you know... that things had changed. That _I'd_ changed."

"I don't think you've changed," Leon said quietly. "I think you're going through a lot, but you're still Arthur. I'm sure things feel really different but... you still feel the same to me."

Arthur blinked a few times, desperate not to cry in front of the entire dining hall. "Thanks," he whispered, not trusting his voice. "I'm - food," he muttered as he got up from the table. He could feel Leon watching him as he left the room, but he didn't look back. He locked himself in a bathroom stall for a few minutes, trying to gather himself.

Another reason he hated talking about how he felt was that it always brought everything to the surface. If Leon had said those things unprompted, Arthur would have just smiled and accepted them and moved on. But he had already opened himself up and been vulnerable and Leon's words had crawled inside of him.

Deep down, he wanted to be the same Arthur he had always been. He liked himself, generally. Uther's death had triggered something in him, something that made him feel like everything had changed and everything had to change, including himself. He had been struggling with that for months, and Gaius was helping, but now Arthur had an overwhelming sense of relief in his chest. Leon had said that he felt the same, and said it in a positive way. It gave Arthur the permission to be the same; it allowed Arthur to continue with his life, guilt-free. Leon's words had finally broken through all of Arthur's doubts about what he was _supposed_ to be like after the death of his father. Now Arthur, quietly crying in the dining hall bathroom, not only felt free but felt like it was _okay_ to feel free.

Leon didn't say anything about it taking Arthur 20 minutes to return to the table with food. Instead, they talked about their classes and current affairs and which professors were hot and anything else they could think of, until Arthur could only think of one other thing.

"I have to go back to Ealdor this weekend," he said, trying to sound casual.

"For what? I thought you already wrote about the art department."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, Gaius wants me to interview another guy, though."

"Who?"

Arthur took a deep breath but then crumpled forward until his head hit the table. "His name's Merlin," he said into his napkin. "He's stupidly gorgeous."

"What?"

Arthur sat up and rubbed his eyes. "His name's Merlin," he repeated. "And he's stupidly gorgeous."

Leon grinned. "Really?"

Arthur nodded, resigned to admitting how captivating Merlin was. "Yeah. I interviewed the other girl at his apartment last week and he was sculpting while I was there and he... yeah. I don't even know what it is about him."

"Is he - I mean, does he like guys?"

"I think so. It's sort of hard to tell. He was grinding with this other guy but it turns out the other guy is straight, so..."

Leon frowned. "Why was he grinding with a straight guy?"

"I have no idea," Arthur admitted. "It's probably just a weird art kid thing."

"Do you know him at all? Is he... like, when I think of 'weird art kid,' I think of... you know, crazy tattoos and crazy hair and lots of... drugs."

Arthur shrugged. "I don't really know him. I guess I will after I interview him but... I've just been so distracted since I met him."

Leon's lips twitched and Arthur could tell he was trying not to laugh. "I've never heard you talk about a guy this way before."

"I know." Arthur started tapping his fingers on the table to some rhythm humming through his body. "It's really embarrassing."

This time, Leon did laugh. "It's not embarrassing. It's just unexpected. Have you talked to Gwaine about it?"

"In what world would that be a good thing to do?"

"I just meant that he might have some advice. He goes out with guys all the time... he even went out with an art major once, apparently."

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't know if I want to go out with him or anything... he's just nice to look at."

Leon nodded and dragged his fork across his plate, through the crumbly remains of his dinner. "Would you ever go out with a guy? I mean, would you ever... date one?"

Arthur looked down at his own plate, hoping Leon wouldn't see him blushing. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe if there was someone I really, really liked... I've never really thought about it. It wasn't really an option before."

"Did your dad know?" Leon asked carefully.

Arthur nodded, strangely glad that Leon had asked. He had never talked about it with anyone else. "He was the first person I told... the only person I told before I got here, actually. I didn't even tell Morgana until this year and that was only because she dug around on my Facebook and saw some pictures of me and Gwaine being really drunk together. It's... it's hard to talk about."

"We don't have to talk about it," Leon said quickly.

"I don't mind," Arthur tried to explain. "It just feels awkward. Especially... I mean, it's different with Gwaine because he... gets it, but you're..."

"I'm straight," Leon said. "And Gwaine's gay. You're neither, though, so I don't think you should feel any more awkward talking about it with me than him. I don't want you to feel awkward about it, at least."

Arthur forced himself to meet Leon's eyes and smile. "Thanks. I try. It's nothing personal."

Leon returned the smile. "I know."

"Anyway, yeah, I came out to my dad. He didn't even know what bisexuality was and I had to explain it to him, which was the most horribly awkward moment of my entire life. And... his only real response was to make sure I knew that he would 'strongly prefer' that I stick to dating only girls."

"I'm sorry."

Arthur shrugged. "I didn't expect much less, to be honest."

"Still sucks," Leon pointed out.

Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, it still sucked. But... I don't really have to worry about it anymore, so..." He trailed off, frowning down at his plate.

"So ask Merlin to get coffee sometime," Leon said bracingly. "You don't have to jump head-first into the gay dating pool or anything. Just do what feels right and if you like him, then great, and if you don't, then oh well, at least you tried. It doesn't have to be a big deal if you don't want it to be."

Arthur looked up again and smiled. "You're right."

"Of course I am. And speaking of coffee, I'm going to grab some to take to the library. Do you want to come?"

"No, thanks. I don't have anything due until Monday. I think I'm going to have a beer and watch a movie in my room."

"A porn movie," Leon clarified as they gathered their dishes.

"Yes," Arthur said flatly. "A porn movie."

Leon laughed and led the way to the dish room.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Merlin was sitting in a corner of the front gallery when Arthur finally walked into Ealdor on Friday afternoon. He was cross-legged on the floor, bent over at the waist as he sketched something in a notebook.

Arthur lingered near the door for a minute to see if Merlin would look up. When he didn't, Arthur moved over to his corner.

"Hey," he tried.

Merlin didn't respond.

Arthur waved his foot over Merlin's notebook and Merlin jerked up in surprise. He pulled his headphones off and raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation from Arthur.

"Hey," Arthur said again. "Um... can I sit down?"

Merlin shrugged and moved his backpack slightly, giving Arthur a space to sit.

"Are you a glutton for punishment?" Merlin asked as Arthur settled down on the floor.

"No, why?"

"You clearly have no interest in art," Merlin said bluntly, "but you keep coming back here."

Arthur smiled. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes."

"Well... I'm not here for myself. I'm here for the _Observer_."

Merlin didn't look convinced. "You already interviewed Freya."

"Yeah, but... Gaius really liked it and told me to keep going with the whole art... thing, so now I'm supposed to interview you."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Me? Why?"

Arthur shrugged. "I guess Gaius heard you were really good or something."

"Gaius is my godfather."

Arthur groaned and slumped back against the wall. "Of course he is."

Gaius had mentioned a few times over the years that his godson was attending Albion as well, but when Arthur hadn't made any attempts to meet him, Gaius had dropped it. At least, he had dropped it until now.

"You're Arthur _Pendragon_, right?" Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded. "Yeah... guilty as charged. Arthur Pendragon. Arthur Gwen's-Ex-Boyfriend. Arthur Everyone-in-My-Family-Has-Gone-to-This-School."

"Or been president of this school," Merlin added.

"Right." Arthur looked down at his lap, wondering if Merlin was going to judge him because of his family.

"So, an interview?" Merlin asked cheerfully after a long pause.

Arthur looked up, smiling slightly. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

Merlin shrugged. "I don't mind. We can do it tonight, if you're free. Back at my apartment."

"You don't have other plans? It's Friday..."

"Lance is coming over around 7 again," Merlin explained. "You can come watch and do the interview after. Or before, whichever you prefer."

"Can I come over at 6:30?" Arthur asked, trying to bite back a grin. "I'll bring a pizza."

Merlin smiled slowly, his eyes crinkling around the edges. "Sure, that'd be great."

"All right."

Arthur smiled and looked over Merlin, letting his eyes linger on the piercings. He thought about staying in the corner with Merlin for a little longer and asking about the piercings or about anything else that came to mind, but then Merlin bent back down to continue sketching. Arthur looked at the notebook and saw a few half-formed bodies drawn out, all dancing.

Making a mental note to ask Merlin about his preference for sculpting dancers, Arthur pushed himself off the floor and walked out of Ealdor with a wave back at Merlin.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Arthur stopped by his favorite pizza place on the way over to Merlin's to pick up two large pizzas, a few orders of fries, and a couple six-packs of beer that he bought with his fake ID. When he got to the warehouse, he balanced the loot carefully on his forearms and jabbed the buzzer next to Merlin's name with his thumb.

It was Lance who opened the door a minute later.

"Thanks," Arthur said when Lance took the beer out of his arms. "Merlin said you weren't coming until 7."

"Yeah, but he told me there'd be pizza," Lance said, grinning. "I think that was an understatement, though. How much did all this cost?"

"Don't worry about it," Arthur said as they made their way up the stairs.

Lance kicked at Merlin's door when they reached the third floor and Merlin opened it after a few seconds, his jaw dropping when he saw all the food.

"Holy shit." He stepped out of the way to let Arthur and Lance inside.

"I wasn't sure what you guys liked," Arthur said, setting the pizza boxes down on Merlin's kitchen counter. "Top one's half meat lover's and bottom one is half vegetable."

"Fantastic," Lance moaned appreciatively and opened the top box without preamble. He pulled out a meat lover's slice and bit into it, his eyes closed in bliss.

"He's been here for an hour," Merlin explained, pushing Lance out of the way so he could get to the bottom box of pizza. "Loudly complaining about how hungry he is."

Arthur laughed. "Glad I could help."

Most of the pizza and all of the fries were devoured half an hour later, and Arthur was sprawled across Merlin's futon, a half-empty can of beer clutched in his hand.

"I'm going to puke," Lance said from where he was leaning against the counter.

"Same," Merlin moaned, slumping lower on his stool. "I don't think I've ever eaten that much pizza before."

"I'm having a food coma," Arthur mumbled, setting his beer down on the armrest.

Merlin snorted. "Can I join?"

"The more the merrier," Arthur said vaguely.

Merlin pushed himself off the stool and plopped down next to Arthur on the futon. He leaned back against an armrest and lifted his legs onto Arthur's lap with a groan.

"If I die, it's your fault."

"Die of what?" Arthur asked, staring down at Merlin's ankles. His jeans had ridden up slightly and there was an inch of skin visible between them and his socks. Arthur could see ink covering the skin, but he couldn't figure out what the tattoo was.

"Food overdose," Merlin said, closing his eyes.

Arthur chuckled and leaned his head back on the futon's cushion. He felt disgustingly full but strangely comfortable with Merlin's feet in his lap, like it was no big deal. He wondered if Merlin was always so quick to disregard people's personal space.

It took a while for Lance to suggest that they start working, by which point Merlin had actually fallen asleep. He blushed a lot as he got off the couch, muttering apologies to Arthur for napping on him.

Arthur said nothing in response, mostly because he found that he didn't actually mind. It was nice that Merlin had felt just as comfortable resting his feet in Arthur's lap. He stayed on the futon as Merlin and Lance puttered around the kitchen, pretending to clean up but mostly just shifting around the pizza boxes and six-packs.

"Are you sure you don't mind me watching?" Arthur asked when they moved tentatively over toward Merlin's sculpting area.

"As long as _you_ don't mind watching," Merlin said, shrugging. He went over to his computer and turned on the same loud hip hop music he had played the last time. He danced a little where he stood, his knees bent and his hips swaying suggestively.

Arthur got his notebook out to avoid watching the way Merlin and Lance were practically eye-fucking each other as they moved closer and closer together. He tried to remember that Lance was straight and dating Gwen, but he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. When he looked back up from his backpack, Lance had his hands on Merlin's back and a thigh between Merlin's legs and there was nothing _straight_ about it.

To distract himself, Arthur jotted down a few notes.

_Fueled by sex and music. Getting the creative juices flowing. Getting the blood pumping. Long legs._

Arthur crossed out his last note and glanced up at the dancing pair. Lance had turned around and was rubbing his ass all over Merlin's crotch. Arthur looked down again refused to look back up until the song had changed and he could hear the stools scraping across the floor as Merlin and Lance settled down to work.

Lance was sitting in the same position as he had been the last time, but Merlin was sitting on the floor in front of his sculpture. Arthur observed with as much distance as he could manage, trying not to get completely sucked into their artistic moment like he had done the last time. He saw that Lance wasn't completely still, but was still dancing to the music as he shifted on the stool and tapped his feet and flexed his fingers. He saw that Merlin was moving as well, crouching down to chisel out the details of Lance's waist and rising up on his knees to work on the muscles in Lance's arms and sprawling across the floor to get better access to the base of the sculpture. He was fluid as he bobbed up and down and around his art and Arthur was transfixed as he watched the statue take real shape.

Before he knew it, the album was ending and Lance was shaking out his arms and smiling dopily down at Merlin, who was collapsing onto the floor next to the sculpture.

"I love you," Merlin said earnestly, lifting a lazy arm and dragging his fingers down over the front of the figure of Lance.

Lance laughed and got to his feet. "Yeah, I love you too. It looks good."

"Is it finished?" Arthur asked.

Merlin sat up, grinning. "Yeah. I'll sand it off tomorrow, but the carving's done."

"Can I look?"

Merlin nodded and Arthur got off the futon and moved toward the sculpture. It was beautiful. Despite being made out of stone, it captured something light, almost weightless, about the movement of the dancer. It was graceful and serene and the craftsmanship was obvious; the lines of the body were smooth but there were waves in the hair and folds in the cloth around the dancer's waist that were so realistic. Arthur traced them with his fingers, trying to remember what the lump of stone had looked like earlier that week.

"It's great," he said, smiling down at where Merlin was still lying on the floor.

"It's all right," Lance teased.

Merlin reached out his hand and Arthur pulled him to his feet.

"Still up for an interview?" Merlin asked. "I hope that didn't put you to sleep."

"Not at all. I'm up for it if you are."

"Do I have to be here for that part?" Lance asked.

"No," Merlin said flatly. "Get out."

Lance rolled his eyes and laughed. "Fine, but just for that, I'm taking the rest of the pizza."

"As long as you don't take the beer."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Arthur settled down on the futon as Lance packed up the rest of the pizza. He left with a wave and what Arthur was pretty sure was a wink at Merlin, and then Merlin came over to the futon with two open beers.

"So," he said, handing one of the bottles to Arthur as he sat down, "where do we start?"

Arthur took a long sip of beer before flipping open his notebook. He glanced over the half-formed thoughts he had scribbled down while Merlin and Lance had been working.

"Where did you learn to sculpt?" he asked, tapping his pen against the notebook.

Merlin frowned slightly as he thought about his answer. "I guess I... taught myself. I mean, I was always making shit out of Play-Doh and clay when I was growing up. I didn't take classes or anything until towards the end of middle school. By then, I was mostly whittling animal figurines and stuff like that... I mean, I was 12 and I was just excited to get my hands on a pocket knife, you know?"

He smiled shyly and Arthur smiled back, staring dopily into Merlin's blue eyes until they flickered down to Arthur's notebook.

"Oh," Arthur said stupidly, blushing and hurrying to write down a summary of what Merlin had said.

"After a while, my mom enrolled me in pottery and art classes," Merlin continued as if nothing had happened. "There weren't any teachers who did stone sculpting, so I just bought a lot of books and tools and figured it out for myself."

"That sounds sort of dangerous," Arthur pointed out, thinking of the saw he had seen Merlin wielding on top of the granite block.

"Not as long as you're smart about it." Merlin shrugged.

"Did you whittle those?" Arthur asked, pointing at the small wooden carvings on the shelf above Merlin's bed.

"No," Merlin said quietly, his gaze lingering on the shelf. "My dad made those."

"Is he a sculptor, too?"

"He..." Merlin took a long pause and Arthur studied the soft lines of his profile. "He was an art teacher. I only met him a few times before he died, but he liked making those for me."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said quickly, his chest tight. "I didn't realize."

Merlin turned back to him and offered a small smile. "It's okay."

"My dad died over the summer," Arthur blurted out. "So, I... I get it. I guess. Um."

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, Gwen mentioned... I'm sorry."

Arthur shrugged and looked back down at his notebook. "Um. So, how come you sculpt so much movement? With the dancers, I mean." He glanced up and gestured at the sculptures scattered around the studio.

"I like music," Merlin said, his voice determinately lighthearted. "I dated a ballet dancer in high school and I used to go to all the shows and I always thought it would be interesting to try and, you know, show that sort of... soft gracefulness in something as solid as rock... or wood or clay or whatever. I like the juxtaposition."

Arthur nodded and spent a few seconds writing that down.

"I guess I'm trying to create, you know... something sort of... new. I mean, every artist does that and that's a terribly stupid thing to say, please don't quote me on that. What I mean is that I think it would be really cool to translate music into sculpture. You can do it literally by making like, notes or whatever, but I think it's more interesting to take aspects of music, like dance, and try to create music in the viewer's head, you know? Like, I want someone to look at that sculpture and think about the movement of the dancer and think about what music would be playing in that moment. I want them to hear music in their heads when they look at what I've done."

Arthur wrote down Merlin's words very carefully and then read them over to make sure he had gotten them all.

"That's kind of beautiful," he said, looking up at Merlin. "Do you play music at all?"

Merlin snorted. "No, I'm completely useless when it comes to instruments."

"What about the piano by the window?" Arthur asked.

"That came with the apartment, actually," Merlin explained. "It was here and I liked it, so I kept it. Some days I sit down and play... oh, what's that stupid song called that everyone knows... something about a heart..."

"'Heart and Soul?'" Arthur guessed, cringing.

"Yeah, that one. I'm sure it annoys the fuck out of my neighbors, but it's the only thing I know how to play."

"I could teach you some other songs, if you like," Arthur said without thinking. "I fucking hate 'Heart and Soul.'"

Merlin's eyes lit up. "You play piano?"

"Um... yeah." Arthur looked back down at his notebook. "How come you use Lance so much? Does he inspire you the most or is it just convenience?"

Merlin laughed. "It's definitely not convenient for him to sit like that for hours on end, but..." Merlin shrugged. "He's a really good friend of mine. Plus, he knows how to dance, which is obviously a bonus in terms of what I like to do."

"Is he a dance major, too?"

"No, but he takes a lot of classes... that's how he met Gwen. He's a painter. He did that one." Merlin pointed to a large painting of an ocean hanging near the bathroom. "He's really, really good. Unfortunately, he doesn't usually paint people, so I never get to model for him and return the favor."

Arthur nodded and turned the page in his notebook. "What's your process like for when you start a new sculpture? How do you plan it out?"

"It depends, I guess. Sometimes for class we're giving a chunk of something and we can make whatever we want out of it. In that case, I usually just... get inspired by the rock, or the clay or whatever it is. That sounds really lame, but it's true. Anyway, if it's a bigger project, I usually sketch it out first. Sometimes I'll get Lance to come over and model a few different poses for me and we might brainstorm it together."

"Do you only ever use Lance? Have you ever used Gwen?"

"Once, yeah. I tend to prefer sculpting, um... the male form."

"Why's that?" Arthur asked idly, scribbling down a mess of his own thoughts mixed with Merlin's words.

"Probably because I'm gay," Merlin said, laughing. "I guess it's more interesting for me."

"Lance doesn't mind?" Arthur asked, looking up again. "I mean, with, you know... he dances with you."

Merlin shrugged. "Yeah. It's just something we do... I probably couldn't even properly explain it if you paid me to. He's good about it, though. He thinks it's funny."

"The straight guys at this college are ridiculously lenient."

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. "You say that like you're not one of them."

Arthur looked back down at his notebook and traced over the last few words he'd written. "I'm... bi."

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on his notebook, trying not to fidget. He was comfortable with himself and what he liked, but he still wasn't used to those words. They felt strange to say, no matter how many people he told or how many different ways he tried to phrase it.

"Cool," Merlin said casually. When Arthur didn't respond, he asked, "No more questions?"

"I think that's all." Arthur looked up and smiled. "I really appreciate it."

Merlin returned the smile. "No problem. I hope you're learning to like art a little more."

"I am," Arthur said honestly. "I like yours, anyway. It's... well, it makes sense to me. It's not so abstract as Freya's. I get it. I hear the music, you know, when I look at the dancers and... yeah. It works. It..." He nodded as he trailed off. "Yeah. I like it."

Merlin grinned, leaning forward just slightly. "I'm glad," he said, his eyes bright and his smile shifting into something more coy.

Arthur blinked and then Merlin's lips were on his in a hesitant kiss that was sweet and quick and not nearly enough. Arthur grabbed onto Merlin's shoulders when he tried to pull back. Merlin gasped softly against his lips and Arthur moved his hands down to Merlin's waist, trying to get closer.

Merlin's lips were soft and pliant but demanding and eager at the same time, and it was better than Arthur had imagined.

"Wow," Merlin breathed when Arthur finally let him break the kiss. "That was-"

Arthur cut him off with another quick kiss, impatient and wanting more. "Sorry," he said, his lips brushing Merlin's as he spoke. "I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you."

Merlin chuckled quietly and shifted to press a kiss just below Arthur's ear. "Even after I told you off?"

"Yeah," Arthur admitted.

Merlin smirked and got off the futon, holding out his hands to help Arthur up. "Will you dance with me?"

Arthur laughed uneasily. "Dance? Like the way you dance with Lance?"

Merlin shook his head and slinked over to his desk. He clicked around on his laptop until an old, familiar soul song came on. Grinning, he made his way back over to Arthur, his hips swaying in time with the music.

"Why do I know this song?" Arthur asked as Merlin slotted himself against Arthur and started rocking side-to-side.

"Because it's a good song?" Merlin grabbed Arthur's hips and pushed them slightly until Arthur started dancing.

"It reminds me of my sister," Arthur muttered, trying to think hard about where he had heard this song before.

"That's not really what I was aiming for," Merlin teased, slipping his hands around to Arthur's ass.

Arthur pushed his hands under Merlin's shirt and brushed his fingers over Merlin's warm skin. The song was sort of sad, about loneliness and love lost, and it made Arthur want to hang on to this moment for as long as possible. He held Merlin's sides tightly, pulling him closer.

Merlin continued swaying lazily to the music, one of his legs slowly making its way between Arthur's until they were both grinding into each other's hips.

"_Dirty Dancing_," Arthur said as soon as the song ended. "That's where I know that song from."

Merlin smiled and pulled on Arthur's earlobe with his teeth as the next song started. This one was slower and more dreamlike.

"I'm surprised you've seen that movie," he whispered.

Arthur gulped. "My sister made me watch it," he said, his voice rough as Merlin continued teasing his ear.

"Did you have a crush on Patrick Swayze?" Merlin asked, his breath making Arthur shiver.

"No, I was more into Jennifer Grey at the time."

"And now?"

"It's been a long time since I saw that movie," Arthur said, surprised at his ability to act casual and unaffected when Merlin's fingernails were scraping the back of his neck and Merlin's tongue was playing in his ear. "But his hair always grossed me out, anyway."

Merlin laughed and pulled away from Arthur's ear to press their foreheads together. Arthur moved forward until his lips were against Merlin's and Merlin responded immediately, moaning against Arthur's mouth and sliding his tongue along Arthur's bottom lip.

The kiss was long and unhurried but Arthur could feel a desperate need starting to take hold of both of them. They were holding onto each other's necks and hair as they learned each other's mouths, their soft sighs and moans barely audible above the ethereal music. Arthur was getting harder each time Merlin's hips pressed against him with the slow beat of the drums and he could feel Merlin's cock stirring against his thigh as well.

The music faded out and in the few moments of silence between songs, Arthur could hear how loudly he and Merlin were panting as they struggled not to break their kiss.

The next song started with a heavy, steady electric beat and Merlin deepened the kiss with a groan as his fingers started playing with the bottom hem of Arthur's shirt. Arthur stepped back to take it off but Merlin pulled him back before he could manage it.

"What's the rush?" Merlin asked, digging his hands into Arthur's back pockets.

"I told you," Arthur huffed. "Been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you."

"We have all night," Merlin said soothingly before biting Arthur's bottom lip.

Arthur let out a low moan as his cock twitched in his jeans. "All night?"

"Well, we have at least an hour. But I can always put this playlist on repeat."

Arthur stilled his hips and leaned back slightly to get a good look at Merlin. "Is this your sex playlist?"

"It's one of my sex playlists," Merlin said, grinning mischievously.

Arthur shook his head, holding back a laugh. "You are so strange."

"I'm not," Merlin protested, frowning.

"No, you are," Arthur assured him. "I like it, though."

"You're the one who doesn't like art," Merlin said, pouting ridiculously. "That's pretty strange."

"I like art, just not... this is irrelevant."

"Art is never irrelevant."

Arthur sighed and fought not to roll his eyes. "I just like more classic art, is all. I like your sculptures and I like that painting Lance did of the ocean. It's more traditional. Is that so wrong?"

"No," Merlin said simply, moving one hand to the front of Arthur's jeans to press against his erection. Arthur pushed his hips forward. "Do you like more traditional music, too?"

"What?" Arthur asked, completely distracted by Merlin's fingers squeezing his cock.

"You said you play the piano," Merlin explained, his casual tone belying his blush. "Do you like to play classical music or more contemporary stuff?"

Arthur chose to kiss Merlin again instead of answering. He trailed his fingers along the top of Merlin's jeans and Merlin moaned deliciously into his mouth. Arthur ran his fingers over Merlin's stomach, noting the sensitive spots that made Merlin tremble and taking care to give them extra attention until Merlin was panting and limp in his arms.

The next few songs were a blur as Arthur tried to get himself and Merlin naked, and Merlin made it as difficult as possible for him. Every time Arthur got his hands on the bottom of Merlin's shirt or the zipper of Merlin's jeans, Merlin would suddenly start dancing wholeheartedly to the electro-pop music or increase the pressure and speed of his hand on Arthur's crotch or start lavishing Arthur's neck and ears with nips and kisses and hot suction until Arthur couldn't even_think_, let alone concentrate on clothing removal.

Finally, when a song came on with a thumping bass line that settled low in Arthur's stomach and renewed his urgency, Merlin detangled himself from Arthur's grip and stepped back with a wicked grin.

"Merlin," Arthur said lowly, reaching out to drag his hand down Merlin's front.

Merlin winked and started mouthing the lyrics to the song as he walked backwards towards his bed, his long fingers slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his fly. Arthur suppressed a groan and stared undoing his own jeans as he followed Merlin toward the bed.

"Are we actually going to do this now?" Arthur asked, pushing his pants down on his thighs and letting his cock tent the front of his boxers.

Merlin just smiled and settled on the edge of the bed, his jeans still snuggly on his hips. Arthur dropped to his knees and pulled Merlin's jeans off before Merlin could protest.

"Do you have any tattoos?" Merlin asked as he leaned down to pull off his socks.

"No." Arthur ran his hands up Merlin's thighs and then down Merlin's calves, his eyes fixed on the long outline of Merlin's cock inside dark blue briefs.

"Shame." Merlin dug his fingers in Arthur's hair. "You'd look hot."

Arthur shrugged and tore his gaze from Merlin's crotch to inspect the tattoos on Merlin's ankles. He had a shark on one and a school of what Arthur assumed were minnows on the other.

"How many do you have?" he asked, looking back up.

"You'll just have to wait and see," Merlin teased.

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood back up to take off his jeans. When he had stepped out of them, Merlin grabbed his hands and pulled him onto the bed. They wrestled for a moment as they tried to move up towards the pillows.

"You don't like to make this easy, do you?" Arthur asked after Merlin had flipped them and pinned him to the bed.

"It's more fun this way," Merlin said, straddling Arthur's legs. He pushed one hand into his briefs to pull on his cock and Arthur groaned at the sight.

Arthur shifted up on his elbows and licked his lips slowly. Merlin surged forward until his briefs were in Arthur's face and Arthur mouthed his balls through the thin material.

"Your mouth," Merlin sighed, rocking his hips so that the underside of his cock dragged along the tip of Arthur's nose.

Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin's balls before sitting up, causing Merlin to fall backwards in a mess of flailing limbs. Laughing, Arthur climbed on top of Merlin's lap and pulled Merlin's shirt off as a new song came on. This one sounded dirty and grungy and it made Arthur think of filthy slow and sweaty sex. Arthur leaned down to lick from Merlin's belly button to his Adam's apple, which made him arch off the bed with a strangled, needy sound.

"Three tattoos," Arthur said, trailing over the one on Merlin's chest. "At least." This tattoo was seven stars that spilled down from Merlin's shoulder and across one of his pecs, each heavily outlined in black and filled in with one color of the rainbow. Arthur traced the stars with his fingertips, then dragged his fingers lower until they were teasing the hairs below Merlin's belly button. Merlin was thin and wiry and so unlike Gwaine, but Arthur found that he liked it. He liked that he couldn't quite see Merlin's abs. It made Merlin feel more real; Gwaine had always seemed a little too perfect.

"At least," Merlin agreed, pulling Arthur out of his thoughts.

Arthur lifted up off Merlin's hips and tugged on his briefs until he lifted his legs and let Arthur pull them off. There was another tattoo on his left hip; it was a small, crude drawing of a dragon. Arthur stared at it for a moment and then turned to look at the small wooden carvings above Merlin's bed. The same figure that was on Merlin's hip was in the center of the shelf, staring right back at him.

Arthur turned back to Merlin, who was biting his bottom lip as if he actually thought Arthur would stop their slow journey towards sex to talk about their dead fathers. Determined to move past the moment, Arthur gave the dragon tattoo a quick kiss before taking the head of Merlin's cock into his mouth.

Merlin hissed and arched up again, his hands taking a firm grip on the back of Arthur's head. Arthur pressed down on Merlin's hips with his hands and sucked as hard as he could until Merlin was squirming and letting out broken whimpers.

"Oh, fuck," Merlin gasped when Arthur pulled back. "Take off your shirt."

Arthur looked up from where he was tonguing the seam of Merlin's balls. "What?"

"Your shirt," Merlin said, tugging at the collar of it. "I want to see you."

Arthur sat up briefly to take off his shirt and then dropped it onto Merlin's face before leaning back down to lick up the length of Merlin's cock.

"You're not too terrible at this," Merlin said, sounding vaguely surprised, his voice slightly choked as he clamped one hand on the back of Arthur's neck.

Arthur pushed the hand away and sat up, glaring down at Merlin. "What the hell does that mean?"

Merlin's lips twitched. "What?"

"That's the worst sex compliment I've ever gotten!"

"What?" Merlin repeated innocently.

"Don't tell me I'm 'not terrible' at something," Arthur demanded, annoyed that Merlin had said it in the first place and even more annoyed that he was pretending he had done nothing wrong. "Either tell me I'm the best or don't say anything at all."

Merlin's shoulders shook with laughter. "I wasn't expecting you to be so bossy."

Arthur crossed his arms and waited for an apology. He really wanted to continue what he had been doing, but Merlin had unknowingly struck a nerve. Arthur had only given a handful of blowjobs before, and only ever to Gwaine. Gwaine had never complained about his technique, but he still felt like he was new to most aspects of gay sex, and Merlin's half-hearted compliment hadn't really been encouraging.

Merlin pushed himself up until he could kiss Arthur. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding genuine enough that Arthur realized his insecurities must have been written all over his face. "I was just joking."

Arthur sighed, more embarrassed than offended. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Merlin said firmly. "It felt really good. _Really_ good."

Arthur took a deep breath and then pushed Merlin back onto the bed. "Of course it felt good," he said, wrapping his hand around Merlin's cock and giving it a few sharp tugs. "Who makes jokes in the middle of sex, anyway?"

"I used to sleep with this one guy," Merlin said a bit breathlessly as Arthur tightened his grip. "He was always talking, going back and forth between dirty talk and dirty jokes and I guess it sort of rubbed off on me-"

"You can stop talking now," Arthur said, clasping both his hands around Merlin's cock and sliding it between his palms.

Merlin groaned and thrust up into Arthur's hands. "Oh, _God_."

Another slower song came on and Arthur went along with it, taking his time and experimenting with different speeds and grips until Merlin was flushed all over.

"Suck me," Merlin pleaded when Arthur shifted his attention to Merlin's balls again. "Fuck, _please_, Arthur, it felt so good, I promise it did, please - _yes_!" Merlin sobbed the last word as a new song came on and Arthur leaned down to lick the underside of his cock.

Merlin's hands gripped Arthur's hair tightly and Arthur moaned around the cock in his mouth, trying to pay attention to what he was doing. Merlin was panting and writhing and clawing at his neck and Arthur felt blissfully high on arousal. The song playing through Merlin's computer had a strangely romantic combination of a bass voice and a high-pitched synth line that was getting to both of them. Merlin was practically whining as Arthur teased him, careful not to push him over the edge just yet, and Arthur himself felt desperately close to coming already. Merlin's playlist was doing all the right things and, even more than that, Merlin's own moans and whimpers were going straight to Arthur's cock. He loved feeling that he was doing something right and if Merlin's responses were anything to go by, Arthur was doing _everything_ right.

Arthur pushed his hand between Merlin's legs and dragged a fingertip over Merlin's hole as the song's intensity built slowly. He wanted to make Merlin come to this song; it was overwhelming him and he wanted Merlin to feel it, too.

Merlin's hips arched off the bed as Arthur pulled back to the head of Merlin's cock and started flicking the tip of his tongue on the underside. He pushed his finger slowly, gently into Merlin and Merlin came with a loud cry that was swallowed by the music.

Arthur pulled his finger out and moved his hand to Merlin's hip, holding it as Merlin slowly sank back onto the bed. He swallowed around Merlin's pulsing cock and kept licking the underside until he heard Merlin hissing sharply with every pass of his tongue. He pulled off slowly and took a few seconds to catch his breath before he looked up to see Merlin staring down at him.

"Are you timing this to your playlist?" Arthur asked, noticing that the song had changed again, this time to something soft and gentle. It was definitely not a sex song; it was an orgasm recovery song.

"Timing what?" Merlin asked. He looked sleepy and satisfied and blissed out enough that it was plausible he genuinely didn't understand Arthur's question, but Arthur could see through the act.

"This," Arthur clarified, gesturing between them. "Us. Sex."

Merlin smiled lazily. "Maybe."

"Well... how many songs before I get to come?"

"Three or four."

"What if I don't want to wait that long?" Arthur asked, thinking that he probably couldn't even if he did want to.

"Oh, you want to," Merlin said, sitting up. "Trust me."

Arthur laughed and pulled Merlin closer for a kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, until the next song started and Merlin trailed his hand from Arthur's shoulder to Arthur's stomach, his fingers teasing the elastic waistband of Arthur's boxers. The woman singing sounded like she was moaning out every lyric and there was a relentlessly steady drum beat that did nothing to pull Arthur back from the edge. It was taking everything he had not to rip off his boxers and shove Merlin's head down, but Merlin's taunt that it would be worth his while if he waited was just enticing enough to make Arthur hold himself back.

The song marched slowly on and Arthur lifted his hips slightly, hoping to spur Merlin into action. Merlin stayed his course, though. He pushed his fingers inside the waistband of Arthur's boxers, but no further. His other hand trailed teasingly between Arthur's thighs and chest, pinching Arthur's nipples occasionally.

"You're a horrible tease," Arthur moaned when Merlin's fingers inched up his thigh and disappeared under his boxers.

"Rude," Merlin muttered against Arthur's neck.

"You're the one - _ah_, yeah..." Arthur trailed off when Merlin reached further up his boxers and started stroking his cock with long, sure fingers.

"Just don't come," Merlin whispered, twisting his hand over the head of Arthur's cock.

"You're going to have to stop if you don't want me to come," Arthur warned.

"I don't want to stop," Merlin said, running his free hand over Arthur's back and moving closer until they were practically sitting in each other's laps. "I can't keep my hands off you. You feel so warm."

Arthur chuckled, glad for the distraction. "I feel warm? Are you telling me I have good circulation?"

"Ew, no, that's not what I'm telling you. I'm not a doctor."

"Really? I had no idea."

Merlin squeezed Arthur's balls and Arthur gasped, his grip on Merlin's shoulders tightening.

"Don't sass me," Merlin said, winking cheekily.

Arthur rolled his eyes but then got distracted by the next song, a slow R&amp;B song he recognized from his childhood. He remembered seeing the music video for the first time when he was much younger; it featured a very naked man standing by himself and singing about things that hadn't quite made sense at the time but were very clearly about sex. Arthur had only caught a minute or so of the scandalous video before his father had walked in and changed the channel, demanding that Arthur never watch such filth again.

"I can't believe you're playing this song right now," he muttered, trying not to lift his hips in time with Merlin's slow stroking.

"It's a good song," Merlin said, his voice low and breathy in Arthur's ear. "It _drips_ with sex."

"Does that mean I get to come?"

"No."

Arthur reached out to grab Merlin's wrist, stopping his slow torture. "I'm really not going to last that long," he said, trying not to sound to embarrassed.

Merlin moved his hands to Arthur's hair and pulled him in for a long, filthy kiss that left Arthur breathless but slightly less on edge.

"Do you like getting rimmed?" Merlin asked.

Arthur fought back a full-body shudder at the thought. "Never been rimmed," he answered, wondering if he would last more than thirty seconds if Merlin was going to do it.

"Do you want me to?"

Arthur nodded without even thinking about it. Merlin grinned and kissed him again before maneuvering them around until Arthur was on his back, his legs up in the air as Merlin tugged off his boxers.

"Are you going to let me shower or something first?" Arthur asked before Merlin could do anything, suddenly nervous.

Merlin frowned down at him, his hands still keeping Arthur's legs up in the air. "You want to stop and take a shower?"

Arthur couldn't keep himself from blushing this time, not with his ass on complete display for Merlin. "I - I don't know. You don't... it's not..."

Merlin smiled softly and let Arthur put his legs back down. "We can use a dental dam if it bothers you."

Arthur nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down as Merlin got off the bed and went digging in a desk drawer. He came back a few seconds later with a large blue square of latex and a bottle of lube.

"Is that just going to taste like rubber?" Arthur asked.

"It'll taste like vanilla," Merlin said, holding it under Arthur's nose so he could smell it. "Well, sort of. Vanilla rubber, anyway."

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Merlin said, grinning. He covered one side of the latex square with lube and then lay down on his stomach between Arthur's thighs, pushing at them until Arthur bent his legs and spread them wide enough that Merlin could cover his ass with slippery side of the dental dam.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," Merlin said before ducking down and licking a slow line up and over Arthur's hole.

Arthur gasped and lifted his hips against the sensation. It was hot and intimate and stranger than anything else he'd ever felt. Merlin went slowly, alternating between kissing and licking, moving between Arthur's balls and his ass, and driving him to the very edge of his sanity. Arthur couldn't keep quiet as Merlin took him apart; he dug his fingers into Merlin's hair in an attempt to ground himself in reality and let out moan after moan after moan until he was trembling all over.

Before he knew it, the slow, unbearably sexy song came to an abrupt end and another fast-paced song started pumping through the speakers.

"Can I come now?" Arthur asked, reaching for his cock and not even bothering to be embarrassed about how wrecked his voice sounded.

"One more song," Merlin said, sitting up and tossing the dental dam onto the floor. "How'd you like it?"

"It wasn't too terrible."

Merlin laughed and reached for the lube again, covered his fingers. Arthur held his breath, waiting for Merlin's wet hand to take a tight grip on his cock. Instead, Merlin's fingers slipped lower and pressed against his overly sensitive hole.

"Oh," Arthur breathed, pushing forward.

"Do you like getting fucked?" Merlin asked, rubbing two fingers up and down in a hypnotic rhythm.

"Yes," Arthur choked out.

"We'll have to do that sometime," Merlin said, his eyes bright. "But next time, I want you to fuck me."

Arthur groaned at the thought, too turned on to stop and ask about the prospect of next time, and gripped the base of his cock. "Please, Merlin," he begged shamelessly. "Please."

Merlin pushed the tips of two of his fingers inside and Arthur bucked up, hissing at the sharp jolt of being penetrated.

"God, you do like it, don't you," Merlin said, apparently to himself. He let one finger slip out and pushed the other in all the way.

"Yes," Arthur groaned, lifting his hips as Merlin finger-fucked him.

Merlin crooked his finger and Arthur gasped and tried to turn on his side, pulling away from the pleasure of Merlin pushing on his prostate.

"Shh," Merlin said soothingly, even as he crooked his finger again.

"Fuck, Merlin," Arthur pressed his face into the pillow and moaned as Merlin continued testing the limits of his control. "Please just let me come."

"Next song," Merlin promised, his voice right in Arthur's ear.

Arthur looked up to see Merlin hovering over him, grinning madly as he added a second finger to Arthur's ass. Arthur let out a pathetic whine and grabbed Merlin's head, pulling him closer and biting one of his ears.

Merlin's breath hitched and Arthur took the whole thing into his mouth, letting his tongue play with all the jewelry as he slowly released it. Merlin pressed his face into Arthur's neck and sucked on it roughly until Arthur was moaning.

"God, you're hot," Merlin said breathily, sitting back up.

Arthur couldn't even bring himself to laugh at the compliment. He just kept lifting his hips in time with Merlin's thrusts, wondering if he had died at some point in the last hour and if he was ever going to get to come in this strange hell.

The song faded out and another one started, slow and pretty.

"Oh, fuck," Arthur covered his face with his hands and groaned in frustration. He loved this song and had jerked off while listening to it before. "I hate you."

Merlin chuckled. "I find that hard to believe, somehow." He moved his fingers quicker as the song picked up speed.

"Do I get to come now?"

"Maybe," Merlin teased. He pressed hard, too hard, against Arthur's prostate before letting his fingers slip out.

Arthur let his legs fall limply to the bed, his hands still covering his face. He breathed into his palms, trying not to scream. He had never been so utterly desperate to come before.

When he finally peeled his hands away, he saw Merlin opening the bottle of lube again. He hissed as Merlin squeezed it over his cock and the cold, slimy lube dripped down onto his balls.

Merlin stroked him with a painful slowness that had Arthur's eyes rolling back in his head.

"I swear to God, I'm not even going to fuck you next time," Arthur threatened. "I'm just going to fuck myself on a dildo and make you watch."

"Ooh, dirty talk!" Merlin pulled on Arthur's balls with his free hand. "Tell me what else you're going to do."

"I'm going to tie your hands behind your back," Arthur panted, "so you can't touch yourself."

Merlin laughed and Arthur huffed in frustration, thrusting up into Merlin's hand to make him go faster. It was pointless; Merlin kept his pace slow and steady, even as the song started building towards its own climax.

"Shit," Arthur muttered as his stomach tightened and his toes started tingling. "Come on, please, I'm going to come, fuck, Merlin, please," he babbled as everything went tense and his world narrowed to the slick slide of Merlin's hand on his cock.

"It's about time," Merlin teased, tightening his grip. The bass kicked in on the song, Merlin leaned down to suck on the tip of Arthur's cock, and Arthur came with a strangled gasp, one hand clutched in Merlin's hair and the other in Merlin's sheets.

Everything went blank except for the feeling of Merlin all over him. It seemed to last forever, with Merlin's tongue drawing out his pleasure to its painful end and Merlin's hands running over his chest and teasing his nipples.

"You're going to kill me," Arthur moaned when he could think again.

Merlin pulled off his cock with a gross slurp and sat up, grinning triumphantly. "You don't look that close to death."

"Ha. Ha." Arthur rolled his eyes and flexed his feet a few times, trying to regain feeling in his toes. The song ended and Arthur held his breath, curious to find out how the playlist ended.

After a few beats of silence, another soft and gentle orgasm recovery song started up and Arthur stretched lazily, smiling to himself.

"Was it worth the wait?" Merlin asked, eyebrows raised.

Arthur wrinkled his nose, not wanting to admit that Merlin had just given him one of the best orgasms of his life. "Do you at least have a shorter playlist for next time?"

Merlin laughed and wiped the lube off his hands and Arthur's softening cock with Arthur's boxers before lying down, using Arthur's shoulder as a pillow.

"Can there really be a next time? Or are you just joking?"

"There can definitely be a next time," Arthur said firmly. "Though I wasn't joking about the shorter playlist."

Merlin pressed a sloppy kiss to Arthur's collarbone. "Deal."

Arthur smiled and closed his eyes as his heartbeat finally slowed down to normal. He listened to the soothing music coming through Merlin's computer and wondered if Merlin would mind if he just fell asleep right then and there.

The song faded out after a few minutes and Arthur shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position. To his surprise, another song came on, this one still slow but somehow sexier than the last one. Merlin shifted beside him and Arthur opened his eyes to find Merlin smiling at him.

"Is this supposed to gear me up for round two?" he asked.

"It's just supposed to leave you wanting more. You know, for next time."

Arthur shook his head, too tired to hide his smile. "How many hours did you spend on this playlist?"

"Hours?" Merlin scoffed. "It took me years to compile this thing. This is the _ultimate_ sex playlist. The other ones are for amateurs."

Arthur laughed, slightly baffled. "And how many guys have you seduced with it?"

"Just you. You're the guinea pig."

"I'm not sure if I believe you," Arthur admitted. "But I appreciate the lie."

Merlin nipped at Arthur's earlobe and Arthur hummed in contentment until something clicked in the back of his mind.

"You said you used to sleep with a guy who cracked jokes during sex?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I..." Arthur hesitated, not entirely sure he wanted to confirm his suspicion. "I used to sleep with a guy who did that. He never shut up at all during sex... not even-"

"With your dick in his mouth," Merlin finished for him. "Gwaine?"

Arthur sighed. "Yeah. You're his art student, aren't you?"

"I'm my own art student, I think."

"No, I mean... he mentioned to me that he'd slept with an art student before. It was you."

Merlin shrugged. "Possibly. You've slept with him, too?"

"Yeah, he's a really good friend of mine. He's the only other guy I've ever slept with, actually."

"Lucky him."

"I guess?"

Merlin turned onto his side. "Do you have to go back to campus tonight?"

"No."

Merlin grinned and kissed Arthur's shoulder gently. "Good. I can lend you pajamas if you want. And in the morning you can teach me to play piano."

Before Arthur could come up with a good excuse, Merlin had gotten off the bed and was heading toward the bathroom. Arthur sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. He flung his legs over the side of the bed and waited there, listening to the last notes of the song and then listening to street noises filtering in through Merlin's open windows. He wondered if any of the other occupants of the warehouse apartments had heard them having sex.

When Merlin emerged, Arthur slipped past him into the bathroom to clean himself up. The bathroom was cramped and Arthur relieved himself quickly before going back out into the studio, trying not to feel self-conscious about his nudity.

Merlin offered him a pair of boxers and flannel pants to sleep in. They didn't quite fit but Arthur put them on anyway, along with the shirt Merlin had discarded onto the floor.

"Do you want to watch _Jurassic Park_?" Merlin asked suddenly, sitting down at his desk.

"Only always," Arthur said, laughing.

"Perfect." Merlin set up the movie on his laptop and turned off all the lights in the apartment before curling up under his covers.

Arthur slotted in behind him and fell asleep halfway through the movie with his chin hooked over Merlin's shoulder.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

Arthur woke up to the unbearably annoying sound of "Heart and Soul" being slowly dragged to death on an out-of-tune piano. He groaned and rolled over, pulling Merlin's pillow over his head. It did nothing to drown out the terrible noise and he could hear Merlin laughing at him, so he sat up and chucked the pillow across the room.

It landed shy of its intended target, but Merlin turned around at the soft thud and saw his pillow sitting in the middle of the floor.

"Are you always this violent in the morning?" he asked, finally taking his fingers off the keys.

"I told you," Arthur grumbled, standing and stretching. "I hate that song."

He closed his eyes and stretched some more, trying to work out a knot just behind his shoulder. Something warm wrapped around him and he opened his eyes to see Merlin's face mere centimeters in front of his own.

"Good morning," Arthur said, amused.

Merlin gave him a quick peck. "Did you sleep well?"

Arthur nodded and let his arms loop around Merlin's waist, feeling more than a little content. "Did you?"

"Until you started snoring."

"I don't snore."

"No? Must have been me, then." Merlin pressed another soft kiss to Arthur's lips before stepping back. "Do you want breakfast? I can offer coffee and toast."

"We shouldn't have let Lance take the extra pizza," Arthur said, following Merlin to the kitchen.

"Oh, yeah. Leftover pizza makes the best breakfast." Merlin opened his fridge and Arthur frowned at how completely empty it was.

"Let's go out for breakfast," Arthur suggested. "Do you like the diner?"

Merlin grinned and slammed his fridge shut. "Yeah, they make the best omelets. First you have to teach me how to play the piano, though."

"You expect me to teach you how to play an instrument before breakfast?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms. "You know these things take years, right?"

"Just teach me a new song. Anything you want. It can be 'Happy Birthday' for all I care."

Arthur sighed and dropped his arms. "I don't... it's been a really long time since I played in front of someone else."

Merlin frowned. "Why?"

Arthur shrugged, wishing he had pockets or something to do with his hands. "My mother played piano. She... she died when I was born and when I was growing up, I was always banging on the thing. It drove my dad crazy so he finally had me start taking lessons so it would be bearable to listen to, but... but then it reminded him too much of her and he moved the piano into a different room and soundproofed it and everything."

Arthur kept his eyes on the fridge as he spoke, remembering the endless hours he had spent locked in the studio with his mother's piano.

"You haven't played in front of anyone since then?" Merlin asked quietly.

Arthur shook his head. "I did recitals every year, right up through high school graduation. My dad never came, but... there were plenty of people there."

"Was that the last time, then?" Merlin guessed.

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. After my last recital, it was just... me playing in the soundproofed studio. Or on the keyboard in my room, but I always used headphones with it, even in the dorms..."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Arthur muttered, crossing his arms again. "He always made me feel like it was something... I don't know, something private. It is, it is something private. I mean, I did the recitals and all, but I liked it better when it was just me. It's... it's one of the only things I know about my mother - that she liked to play piano. It's not something I want to share with other people, you know?"

Merlin nodded as if he did know but it didn't make Arthur feel any better. Merlin's dad had been an artist and Merlin shared his own art with the world. It was different. Merlin flaunted his connection with his father; he'd gotten it tattooed on his skin. Arthur wanted to keep his connection with his mother on the inside, away from anyone else. He wanted it left untouched and untarnished.

"My mom was like that with me for a while," Merlin said, pulling Arthur out of his thoughts. "She hated that I liked art so much, because it made her think of my dad. But then she saw how happy it made me."

Arthur nodded, looking at the fridge again.

"I stopped for a while," Merlin continued, quietly. "After my dad died, I didn't even draw anything for... weeks, I think. I didn't sculpt, I didn't paint, I didn't do anything."

Arthur glanced over at Merlin and saw the way he was standing there, open and honest and willing to talk about something that obviously hurt him. Arthur uncrossed his arms.

"What happened?"

"I was miserable," Merlin said, smiling softly. "Creating this stuff," he gestured around at the sculptures littered around the studio, "it makes me happy. It's who I am. I can't just stop being myself because I'm sad, you know? And it... it helps. It helps to do something that you love, even if it hurts. Have you played at all since he died?"

Arthur shook his head, looking at the floor. He felt raw and exposed and wanted nothing more than to drive back to his room for a long, shameful cry.

"You should. I'm not saying you have to do it here, in front of me, but you should."

Arthur said nothing and kept his eyes on the floor.

"Do you still want to go to the diner?" Merlin asked after a long silence, his voice high and chipper. "I'll pay."

Arthur shrugged but went to get dressed. He kept on Merlin's boxers even though the elastic was digging into his skin and shoved his own pair into his backpack. He pulled on his jeans and ran his hands over his hair a few times, trying to flatten it into a reasonable state as he watched Merlin putting on clean clothes.

When they were both ready, Merlin led the way to the door but instead of opening it, he pushed Arthur against it and gave him a long, wet kiss.

"You need to tell me to butt out next time," he said when he finally pulled back.

"What if I don't want you to?" Arthur asked, pushing his fingers into Merlin's still-messy hair.

"Then I'll keep pushing until you play for me," Merlin answered.

Arthur smiled at the honesty. "Okay."

Merlin kissed him again before opening the door and ushering him outside.

—**xxx—xxx—xxx—**

When Arthur finally got back to his room, full of omelets and orange juice and humming one of the songs from Merlin's sex playlist, he pulled his keyboard out from under the bed and set it up next to his desk. He pushed his chair in front of it and sat down heavily, staring at the keys for a long time before turning it on and plugging in his headphones.

Arthur lifted his hand and rested them lightly on the keys, waiting for inspiration to strike about which song he wanted to play. When nothing occurred to him, he decided to start with a scale warm-up.

The first notes were loud and harsh in his ears and he suffered through a few scales before taking off his headphones and letting the sounds from the keyboard fill up the room properly. He shifted in his chair, sitting up straighter as his fingers moved of their own accord and he started playing some old song he couldn't even remember the name of.

The music settled around him and he fought off its comfort for a few minutes until he couldn't anymore. He closed his eyes and leaned into the music, letting it fill his head and his heart until he was breathing in time with the song and lost in the simple feeling of happiness.

He thought about his father and he thought about his mother, but mostly Arthur thought about the music. He thought about how the music was _his_ and how it had always been his and always would be his. He would always have this home to go back to and he was aching from being away for so long and he was overwhelmingly grateful to have finally been pushed back into it.

He transitioned into another song when he couldn't remember how the first one ended and let his mind wander, thinking of Merlin's sculptures. He played through a few songs, trying to find something that matched the feeling he got when he looked at the dancer Merlin had finished the night before. Finally, he settled on something light and quick, something that would inspire graceful and joyous leaping.

Arthur played for what felt like hours, until his back was sore and his hands were cramping. He pushed on through the pain, imagining what sort of things Merlin would create if his music was used for inspiration. He found himself wanting to play for Merlin; he wanted to see Merlin sketching out a sculpture to the sounds he could make. He wanted to work with Merlin, to inspire Merlin, to have Merlin inspire him.

When he was too tired to think of any more songs, Arthur ran his hands from one end of the keyboard to the other, relishing in the triumphant sound of the sweep.

Smiling, he stood up and stretched out his back and arms. He felt new.

Arthur grabbed his laptop and flopped down on his bed with it, determined to make the perfect playlist for the next time he saw Merlin.


End file.
